


Gaining Strength

by Darkicedragon



Series: Gaining Strength [1]
Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: AU, Frankenstein decides werewolves are the bigger threat AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:15:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 38,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24522226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkicedragon/pseuds/Darkicedragon
Summary: Frankenstein needs to gain strength to protect humanity; the werewolves might hold the key to that.
Relationships: Frankenstein/Muzaka (Noblesse)
Series: Gaining Strength [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814341
Comments: 47
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frankenstein decides werewolves are the bigger threat AU.  
> Thanks to Madame Azure for all the support and cheering on while I was planning and writing this. :D As well as helping to brainstorm everything, ahahah.  
> A couple of heads up:  
> \- This fic is long. Really long in comparison to my usual fics. As in, my outline alone is just under 15k. 8') With that said, this fic will be super self-indulgent.  
> \- This fic will be Frankenstein/Muzaka. Eventually. Eventually, because Muzaka doesn't even show up until the second act, some five or six parts in the future. XD; Like I said, this fic will be super self-indulgent.  
> \- Nobles will have minimal presence in this fic.

  
Frankenstein studied the metal claws on his desk, before sighing. He could design them into either gloves, or to extend them over the knuckles, but even without testing, Frankenstein knew they wouldn't be durable enough. Not compared to werewolf claws, which could tear and rend through metal as easily as paper.  
  
He closed his eyes and sighed, leaning back on his chair. How did the werewolves do it? Just change parts of their bodies with a thought?  
  
Could they transmute their bodies so their claws were harder than diamonds? Hm, if they could transmute the carbon in their bodies... Assuming werewolves _had_ carbon in their bodies...  
  
Frankenstein turned his head towards his door, hearing some fellow alchemists chatting as they walked past.  
  
Hm. _They_ could work on creating the noble soul weapon, but souls were intangible things. Something Frankenstein couldn't measure. From what he'd read, the nobles inherited their power from their predecessors, but the werewolves' transmutation was innate. If he could discover how werewolves did that, then maybe he could find a way to enhance humans so that they could also gain that ability.  
  
It was a nice hypothesis, but he needed data before he could make any more progress.  


* * *

  
Frankenstein gathered up his cloak against the chill wind as he stepped off the carriage, already seeing the wreckage surrounding him. Some homes had been torn in half, their innards open for everyone to see, the edges jagged as if something had taken a bite out of it.  
  
It was almost the truth.  
  
He pursed his lips, already feeling the flames of rage start to fan in his chest.  
  
From the report, werewolves had taken over the village, but nobles had stepped in to chase them away.  
  
But not without casualties.  
  
It was just so _easy_ for werewolves and nobles to uproot everything, to change a human's life. And humans could do nothing but only hope they had some meagre luck to stay alive.  
  
Frankenstein closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. Breathe. Calm. He couldn't let his emotions get the better of him and cloud his eyes or thoughts.  
  
He had to do what he could first.  


* * *

  
Frankenstein dropped into his chair, trying to halt the tremors coursing through his body. There had been so many dead bodies...  
  
He could still see the blood that ran through the streets, turning everything a dull brown. Some whole families decimated so there was no-one to grieve over them.  
  
It was clear the majority of the damage was done by werewolves. Werewolves ripped and tore, and left telltale claw marks; vampires were drawn to the neck, or left humans with self-inflicted injuries as the vampire played with their prey.  
  
Frankenstein clenched his fists, but his shaking wouldn't stop, fury surging through him. What could humans do against such monsters?  
  
Nothing. Not right now.  
  
He couldn't do anything for the dead, but he had to do what he could for the living. And that meant researching a way to protect humans.  


* * *

  
Frankenstein squinted at the brown liquid in the vial as the candlelight reflected off the glass. He'd collected it in an area where the villagers had said the werewolves and nobles fought. Apparently only the werewolves had been injured, but as for the truth... Either way, no matter the race, it should give him some information. Though he would have preferred a cleaner sample.  
  
He sighed, setting the vial down. It was what he had right now and that was the best that he would get for the current moment.  
  
He glanced at the vial again, seeing the blood swirl there before he smirked. It was proof that the so called gods could be injured. That they bled.  
  
If they bled like humans, then maybe there were similarities between them that he could use.  
  
Could werewolf blood affect humans like the contracts humans made with nobles? Frankenstein hadn't heard of similar stories concerning werewolves - he'd only heard of werewolves attacking humans and not a werewolf thrall. There were stories of the werewolf 'curse' that was spread through a bite, but that could be a cross-contamination from the vampire stories.  
  
Frankenstein sighed again, picking up his quill. There was too little data with far too much time in between.  
  
By the time he was able to arrive at a place ravaged by werewolves, most samples he could have collected would have been swept or blown away.  
  
It was frustrating, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He could only wait until the next report, and hope that he would reach there in a better time.  


* * *

  
Frankenstein hated waiting. Oh, he could do it while he was waiting for results of his tests, but that was because he knew there would be an end to it. A definitive point where he could say 'It stops now'. Something he could control.  
  
Waiting for a report of a werewolf attack was different. It was uncertain. He could only wait and hope that eventually he would hear of something.  
  
He had collected more stories about werewolves in the meantime. At least then he could reasonably control and know when the parcel would arrive.  
  
The wealth of information about them was considerably smaller in comparison to nobles and vampires, but that also meant there was less embellishments. It was simultaneously a benefit and a drawback - there was less information about werewolves, but there was also less digging needed to sort through the guff.  
  
One difference between werewolf and noble stories Frankenstein found was that werewolves were repelled by silver. It might only be superstition, but Frankenstein noted it down anyway.  
  
It would be a while before he would have a chance to test the theory, but it would be good to keep it in mind.  
  
Though the only way Frankenstein would be able to do such a thing would be if he went to land where the werewolves resided and attacked them. He snorted.  
  
As tempting as that was, he was aware how much of a fools errand that was.  
  


* * *

  
Dammit. Frankenstein glowered at his notes and the stack of books he had collected over the last couple months. There was only so much data he could gather through second- or third- (if he was lucky) retellings. And they were dregs at that, maybe two or three pages inside an entire book.  
  
He needed first-hand data. He needed to _see_ it happen with his own eyes.  
  
...He needed more time. He couldn't afford to wait. Nobles and werewolves had prolonged lives, but humans didn't. _They_ could wait for however long they wanted or needed to, but he couldn't.  
  
Hm.  
  
He stood up, collecting a fresh empty journal.  
  
He could research how to extend his life in between waiting for information about werewolves.  


* * *

  
Frankenstein glanced at the sky when he heard a rapping on his front door. He frown, standing up. Who was summoning him at this time of night?  
  
When he opened the door, he raised his eyebrows. "Atreyi? What are you doing here?" Atreyi was a fellow alchemist, but not one he spoke with often. Though, he didn't speak with many of the other alchemists at the Union often in general.  
  
She greeted him with a quick namaste, Frankenstein returning the gesture. "Everyone knows you're working on researching werewolves - there's been a report that a pack of them have been spotted roaming near one of the villages to the north."  
  
Frankenstein sucked in a breath. Finally, a chance!  
  
"The Union has sent a few guards to the village ahead of us-"  
  
As if that would do anything more but add to the bodies once the werewolves attacked.  
  
"-as well as a message to the nobles for their aid."  
  
He pursed his lips, nodding. As much as he didn't want to rely on the nobles, they were the only force that could drive away werewolves. So far.  
  
Maybe with this trip would give him more conclusive information where he could start making a difference.  
  
"Let me grab my things," he said, already turning away.  
  
What would he need? Journal, ink pot and quill, a book to read...  
  
His eyes fell on the silver dagger he had commissioned the blacksmith to make for him. It had been on a whim, but it looked like it may serve of some use now.  
  
If he even had the chance to use it.  
  
He shook his head, tying the dagger belt to his waist. He was wasting time, hesitating.  
  
And time was the very thing they had the least of right now.  
  
He grabbed a few other needed items and nodded to Atreyi as he left, closing the door behind him. "You're coming as well?"  
  
"Work can be done faster with two pairs of hands than one," Atreyi said as she climbed into the waiting carriage.  
  
Only if one could trust what the other was doing, and there had been too many times where someone Frankenstein had worked with failed to live to expectations.  
  
But there was no time to argue and Frankenstein climbed in after her, the driver starting the horses as soon as he closed the door.  
  
Now he just had to hope they made it in time.  


* * *

  
Too slow. The carriage was too slow. The horses tired easily. Which wasn't their fault - they were only mortal. There were tales of werewolves bounding to the tops of buildings or trees in a single bound, and if he could harness that power-!  
  
He exhaled, staring out at the dark forest they were passing.  
  
As slow as the horses were, they still moved at a greater pace than he could ever achieve.  
  
"You've been huffing a lot," Ateryi noted.  
  
Ah. "Forgive me," Frankenstein said, pulling his attention away from the landscape. "I'm a little...frustrated at the pace we're travelling at."  
  
"We should be an hour's ride away by now," Ateryi said, "and then we can-"  
  
The horses screamed, and Frankenstein cracked his head on the front of the carriage as it slammed to a halt.  
  
"What-?"  
  
Something thumped on the roof and Frankenstein stared up, wide eyed. What was that? A wild animal wouldn't dare to attack a moving carriage.  
  
"Ggk!" Frankenstein heard the driver say, and his blood chilled in his veins, hearing the scuffle and another impact hitting the ground to the side.  
  
He flinched, backing away when the door to the carriage was ripped off its hinges and a hooded figure leaned in from the roof.  
  
"Hello, little humans," the person -except Frankenstein _knew_ what it was- said.  
  
Frankenstein had no time to react when a brown furred arm reached into the carriage and dragged him outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got three paragraphs in before realising Frankenstein would call it transmuting, and not a transformation. XD;;  
> The next couple parts will have some more introspection but it'll be intersped with him actually talking with another person at least. XD;;  
> Why did Son and Lee have to set this in the 1100s... I still think with how much of how things were drawn in the flashbacks, it was actually set in the 1600s-ish and Noblesse is actually set around the 2400s. But hey, anyway.  
> I've currently got about three parts written so far, but I was kinda too excited to wait until I had a bigger buffer to start posting. And I was kinda amused at the contrast between this and Tattoo.  
> But yes, hopefully this won't bite me in the butt later. XD;


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains: mild gore.

Frankenstein's back smacked onto the soft ground and he could see they were surrounded by a number of cloaked figures. There were so many... A few of them had their hoods up, but not all of them.  
  
They really did look humans - Frankenstein wouldn't have placed them as obviously different from human from their facial features. One with short red hair sticking up in spikes would have been his only hint as something unnatural, but there were others that were more normal, with shoulder length black hair or similar.  
  
What had happened to the village? Was there anything left after the werewolves had ravaged it?  
  
He heard Ateryi's yell just before she landed next to him.  
  
Frankenstein tried to get to his feet, but he gasped at an invisible weight pressing down on him, forcing him to stay on his knees. What was happening? It was hard to breathe, hard to drag air into his lungs.  
  
It was like stories he'd heard about noble mind control, but there had been no eye contact, and he was _sure_ the ones around them were werewolves.  
  
Frankenstein shoved up against the force as much as he could. He was able to push his head up, glowering at the werewolf standing in front of him. He couldn't see anything through the hood's shadow.  
  
A chuckle rippled through the pack.  
  
"Aw, the human thinks he's a werewolf, baring his teeth at us."  
  
"Blunt teeth though."  
  
"Yeah, there's no strength in those jaws."  
  
Frankenstein shuddered when the pressure increased, forcing his head down again. A hiss escaped Frankenstein as he gritted his teeth.  
  
"We will be your Lords from now on, humans," the werewolf in front of Frankenstein said.  
  
Fury raged in Frankenstein as he struggled against the pressure, but it held him fast.  
  
Powerless. He was absolutely powerless in the presence of werewolves.  
  
And _he_ had been so focused on gathering knowledge that he had spared no thought of the potential danger of walking right into a pack of werewolves!  
  
Because he had assumed they would be too late. Because he had assumed they would only arrive in time to pick up the pieces of what had been left.  
  
"Well? You should practice your new place as-"  
  
"Hey!"  
  
The first werewolf paused and Frankenstein exhaled, the pressure easing.  
  
A new werewolf jumped in, landing in a crouch from one of the trees.  
  
"There are nobles approaching," the new werewolf said, glancing over his shoulder.  
  
"They found us so fast."  
  
"How did they know?"  
  
Hah. Maybe it had been some use to call upon the nobles after all.  
  
The werewolves were distracted, murmuring between themselves. Now. This could be the only chance he had.  
  
Frankenstein exhaled, his limbs listening to him again as he eased his hand back, feeling for the dagger. He drew it, eyeing the werewolf in front of him.  
  
Could he do it? No, it didn't matter if he could or couldn't. It was a chance that at least one human could be saved in the future if he did this, and that was enough.  
  
He could aim for the femoral artery in the thigh, but there was a chance it wouldn't be fatal to a werewolf. Frankenstein aimed higher and lunged, throwing his whole weight forward. He felt the dagger slice cleanly into the werewolf's gut. Good.  
  
He kept a tight grip on the hilt as the werewolf howled, the pressure returning and forcing him back to his knees.  
  
It made him yank the dagger out and vengeful pride warmed his heart, even as a furry arm reached down and grabbed him by the throat. Without the dagger in place, that should induce sepsis by getting toxins in the gut to escape into the coelom cavity. If it didn't eventually kill the werewolf, it would at least be far more painful for longer than bleeding out.  
  
It was what the werewolf deserved.  
  
Frankenstein was surprised by the hoots and cheering as he was lifted off his feet, claws digging into his throat.  
  
"The little human has claws!"  
  
Frankenstein couldn't move, the pressure keeping his arms still, stars dancing in his eyes as he tried to breathe.  
  
"I will-" The werewolf holding him stilled, the other werewolves quietening.  
  
"The nobles are here!"  
  
With a snarl, the werewolf threw him. Frankenstein had just enough awareness to realise he was flying before he smashed into the carriage, sliding down with a wince.  
  
Nothing broken, no sharp pain that was immediately obvious. Though if he lived, he would definitely feel it. And maybe he would.  
  
The werewolves disappeared and as Frankenstein stared at the empty area, something black blurred in his vision before disappearing also.  
  
He let out a weak chuckle, sagging against the carriage, just gulping in air, his neck burning as he felt blood trickle down his skin.  
  
His hands still shook but he was able to sheath the dagger without dropping it. A pure sample. If nothing else happened, he had a pure sample.  
  
"Thank the gods," Ateryi muttered, crouching next to him as she checked him over. "You didn't need to attack them! The nobles would have dealt with them without your help."  
  
"I'd rather not rely on the transient benevolence of the nobles," Frankenstein said, hissing as Ateryi dabbed a wet handkerchief to his neck. He wanted to rely on his own power. "They could have killed us before the nobles arrived."  
  
"And they might have killed us for attacking them," Ateryi retorted. "Can you stand?"  
  
Frankenstein nodded, getting up. He winced as his back muscles protested. "Nothing's broken."  
  
"Shouldn't we-?" the driver started, and Frankenstein realised he'd kept his distance, staying away from them both. "What if he changes?" His eyes wouldn't leave Frankenstein's neck.  
  
Frankenstein rolled his eyes. "I was scratched by the werewolf's claws, not bitten." If that myth even held true. He still hadn't hadn't found any concrete proof of that.  
  
Though it would be interesting to test if he did begin changing. The full moon had just passed - he could track any changes along with the phases of the moon. "And the full moon was a few nights past - there's little danger of me changing any time soon." If it helped to soothe the man's nerves, then so be it.  
  
"Ah, right." It seemed to work, the man settling.  
  
Frankenstein peered towards the front of the carriage and his heart sank. Both horses were dead, laying in pools of their own blood. There was no hope for them.  
  
"Yes, we're going to have to walk," Ateryi said.  
  
Frankenstein sighed, the forest stretching out far from them in all directions. If they were an hour away by horse, then by foot...  
  
It would take much longer.  
  
"We'd better get moving then," he said.  


* * *

  
"Still human?" Ateryi asked, poking her head into the doctor's house, smiling.  
  
"Still human," Frankenstein said, smiling back from the bed. He'd been able to fill in a few more pages of his journal with notes, but so far, he hadn't felt much different from usual. Bruises and healing from the scratches, aside. "Any interesting news?"  
  
"Ah, always business with you," she said, coming in. "The werewolves had only taken over for a few days before our arrival, but they made their want to rule very clear - the villagers are going to have to choose a new village Head."  
  
"What better way to establish a new ruler by getting rid of the previous one," Frankenstein muttered darkly. "And the nobles?"  
  
Ateryi shook her head. "They haven't been back since."  
  
"Of course." They only cared about fighting the werewolves, not about the humans they supposedly felt a duty to protect. Frankenstein closed his eyes.  
  
Of the two races, it was the werewolves that were more dangerous: the nobles' lack of responsibility for their creation of vampires was different from the werewolves' intent to rule. The nobles at least sometimes extended a protective hand, especially when werewolves were involved - werewolves had no such principals.  
  
Well, now he knew what he should focus on.  
  


* * *

  
Atreyi frowned at him as he moved to exit the carriage. "You should be resting."  
  
"I have rested enough," Frankenstein said, opening the door, trying not to wince as that pulled at his back muscles. He'd spent hours on that doctor's bed already. "There are some things I have to see to."  
  
She sighed. "Very well."  
  
He gestured namaste in goodbye before he left, Atreyi returning it.  
  
Frankenstein took in a deep breath after he closed the door, hearing the carriage trundle away. He was back home.  
  
Well, his second home.  
  
He made one last check the dagger was still in its sheath before entering the Union building.  
  
"Ah, Frankenstein-!"  
  
He turned his head, gritting his teeth as that pulled at his injuries. "My apologies, but I'll be a little busy over the next couple of hours and don't want to be disturbed." He smiled, hoping that would hide the grimace.  
  
He hurried away before anyone else noticed his presence.  
  
Frankenstein paused when he closed the door behind him, smiling at the familiar sight of his lab.  
  
He unbuckled the sheath, setting it on his desk as he collected the supplies he needed.  
  
Once he was ready, he eased the dagger free of the sheath. It was caked in dried brown blood and he exhaled, pride filling his chest. He'd _gotten it._  
  
There were streaks where the blade had been in contact with the leather, but he would be able to extract the blood from that as well.  
  
Frankenstein leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he tried to calm his heart.  
  
There hadn't been a reaction to silver as far as he could tell, though it would be hard to know the difference between a reaction to silver and to being stabbed.  
  
It didn't matter. Either way, the dagger was proof that humans could harm the so called 'gods'. They bled red like humans. They could feel pain.  
  
And maybe, with this, he could find a way for humans to gain the strength to kill them.  
  
He exhaled, opening his eyes again.  
  
Time to get started.


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains: Self harm via cutting.
> 
> Sooo, I've pretty much finished the whole draft now, with just the epilogue to go. :) The update schedule for this should be Wednesdays and Sundays because otherwise it would take months to get this all up. Well, it'll still take months with the bi-weekly updates. XD;;; But it'll be less months.

Frankenstein paused when he felt a slight breeze, the lighting in his room changing. "Yes?" he said, writing the last of his notes before he lost the thought. Someone had to disturb him _now_?  
  
"I heard you were injured attacking a werewolf!"   
  
Ah, yes, _gossip_. Ateryi must have talked to the others.   
  
...Though, how long had he been working if she had returned?  
  
"The gods were smiling on you to protect your life." Frankenstein turned in his chair, and the alchemist's eyes were stuck to the bandages his neck. His name... Filippo?   
  
Urgh. Frankenstein held his tongue. "Are you here to check if I've been doused their holy light?" ...Hm, maybe not by that much. His brain must still be affected by the pain.   
  
Filippo smiled placidly at him. "We're having problems with our calculations and we were hoping your eye would spot what's wrong."  
  
Frankenstein sighed, setting down his quill as he stood up. "Very well." A break might be in order.  
  


* * *

  
Frankenstein gazed at the brown stain on the handkerchief before down at the blade in his hand. He had to do this quickly before the werewolf blood dried again.   
  
He cut a horizontal line across his wrist, exhaling at the stinging as blood welled up along the cut. He could have tried doing the test with the wounds on his neck, but the changes would be far easier to track where he could see it. The wounds on his neck were already half healed already, so would be hard to know if any differences was from the werewolf blood or because his body had already done most of the work.   
  
He set the blade down but as he reached for the handkerchief, he hesitated.   
  
What if he was wrong? What if by testing the blood, he bound himself to the werewolf?   
  
Frankenstein pursed his lips and picked up the handkerchief, pressing the bloodied side to his wound.   
  
His research had said it was unlikely to happen. Werewolves didn't bind others to their will, and the noble contract was completed through the noble ingesting the human's blood, not the human inserting the werewolf blood into their own bodies.   
  
The wound warmed in a way differently from how the claws at his neck did. Too fast, and when he pulled the handkerchief away, the wound had sealed.   
  
Hm. Frankenstein poked at the wound, but it stayed shut.   
  
Interesting. A much faster healing response could explain the werewolves' longevity.   
  
There wasn't an additional presence in Frankenstein's mind and he smiled, relieved. Though it could be because the werewolf had died from his injuries.   
  
He could only hope.   
  
Now to wait for if there were any adverse reactions to the blood before he worked on introducing more of the werewolf's blood to his body.   


* * *

  
Frankenstein frowned, staring at the silver dagger. The blade was warm to the touch, as if it had been sitting in the sun for hours.   
  
He lifted his hand, seeing the redness across his fingertips where he'd touched it.   
  
He put down the vial, looking around his room for anything metal in his room. The candleholders were made of iron and they were still cool, making no reaction from his skin.   
  
The doorknobs, coat hooks... All metal, all not made with silver. And all not giving him the same reaction as when he touched silver.   
  
Frankenstein dug into his money pouch, and even without seeing, he knew when he was touching a silver coin and when he was not. His fingertips emerged red when he looked at them again.   
  
Interesting.   
  
He'd never had a silver reaction before, so the self-enhancements were working? He didn't feel much different from before, but then, if his body was slow adjusting, would he notice? Hm. That was the problem with self-experimentation, though asking others to also note any changes would give him the same result if they weren't paying close attention.   
  
He would need to take more detailed notes of his current state. His strength, his speed...  
  
Frankenstein's gaze was drawn back to the silver dagger. If he was reacting to silver already after a few drops of blood introduced to his body, then what would the reaction to a pure blooded werewolf be?   
  
Everything had happened too fast during the stabbing for him to see anything, and it would have been hard to tell if it was the silver or the pain from the stabbing that had repelled the werewolf.   
  
It worked. That was what mattered.   
  
Now he had to see if he could enhance himself further.  


* * *

  
Frankenstein glowered at his notes. He couldn't read them, that _stench_ distracting him throughout the morning.   
  
He'd tried to ignore it, but it continued to build until even breathing through his mouth wasn't enough to hide it. Whatever it was. It had the sharp tang of smelling salts but had the scent of rotting meat hiding under it.   
  
His hissed when another waft entered his room. That was _it_. He needed to find the source for that stench.   
  
He got to his feet, leaving his room. It wasn't hard to follow the trail, the scent an almost physical force against his skin.   
  
He knocked once on the door, entering instantly. Filippo was on the other side of the door, Osbern with him.   
  
"I'm not sure what you're trying to research here," Frankenstein said tersely, "but could you have the courtesy of at least opening the window so you don't envelop the entire building in whatever you're working on?"  
  
Filippo stared at him, wide-eyed, and then glanced at Osbern.   
  
"I think you have the wrong room," Osbern said, concern creasing his brow. "We've been here all morning and haven't noticed any distinct smells."   
  
Frankenstein opened his mouth to retort but then paused. The room was _definitely_ the source of the stench, and he could see behind them a small vial with white smoke overflowing its lip. But they were standing next to it, as if...   
  
As if they couldn't couldn't smell it.   
  
Dammit. "Hmm, my apologies," Frankenstein said, still trying to breathe through his mouth, "I must have been mistaken." He closed the door behind him.   
  
Even then, he heard, "He's changed since the attack," whispered through the gap.   
  
Hah.   
  
Maybe it was time to work more at night, when people were less likely to be researching...  


* * *

  
Frankenstein's journal was filling up and he thumbed through it, checking his progress. He'd had this much of an improvement and he'd only had a few drops of werewolf blood. If he had access to more... What would the results be?   
  
Though the results were strange. Exponential rather than the plateauing he had expected.   
  
The increases he was gaining wasn't slowing down even though he hadn't added any new blood to his body recently.   
  
As if the werewolf blood was taking hold.   
  
Did it truly need that little before benefits could be seen? Would it be that easy to help to enhance other humans?  
  
...'Easy', hah. Collecting even those few drops of blood had been far from easy and had taken months of waiting to get.   
  
"-rised he's still working here," drifted through his door and Frankenstein sighed. It had been harder to concentrate when he could hear any conversation from anyone passing his door. It might be easier to work at home, but he didn't-  
  
"I won't be working here when the full moon comes around, just in case. If he turns-"  
  
Frankenstein glared at his door. That was the unfortunate side effect of his increased hearing - it turned out there was a lot of gossip around him. He had been able to ignore it before, but no longer. If they spent as much time on their work as talking about others, humanity would have had the strength to protect themselves decades ago.   
  
His hands warmed and he flexed his fingers, trying to get rid of the tingling feeling.   
  
"Tch!" He hissed at the sharp pain in his palms.   
  
Frankenstein stared at the blood dripping from his palms.   
  
The nails that had sharpened into claws.   
  
Even as he watched, his nails melted back into their original rounded shapes.   
  
Frankenstein slumped, panting. His body had changed for a few seconds, and it felt as if he had ran down the street at full pelt.   
  
But he had achieved it. He was able to transmute his body like a werewolf.   
  
He reached for his quill and paused, blood standing in stark contrast against his skin.   
  
The pain had already faded from his palms. He wiped at one palm with a thumb, and while there were small divots left in his skin, that was all there was. The wounds were already sealed over, no blood seeping from them.   
  
If those had healed, then maybe...   
  
Frankenstein tugged at the bandages around his neck, feeling the skin there. It wasn't as bruised or swollen as it had been, nor could Frankenstein feel any break in the skin.   
  
Something reflective, something reflective... Frankenstein dug into his desk drawers. He knew there were small mirrors stored there, from the previous occupant who had done some experiments with light.   
  
There! He brought it out, turning his head to see the wound.   
  
It wasn't a wound anymore. It was a scar of five lines leading down his neck towards his Adam's apple. If the werewolf had squeezed much harder...   
  
No matter. The werewolf hadn't and he was still alive. _That_ was what mattered.  
  
Now. What he should be focusing on was how he had transmuted his body and if he could replicate it again.   


* * *

  
The change in his blood was fascinating. It separated into different parts at different levels from what it used to. This was the power of the werewolf blood? What did the different levels mean?  
  
If that was the cause for the change in his healing... Hm.   
  
If he was able to heal from his wounds, then that werewolf must have as well.   
  
How disappointing. Maybe he should have aimed for the heart. If it was in the same place as humans.   
  
Frankenstein sighed. There was no point considering 'what ifs'.   
  
In the very least, hopefully he had been able to slow the werewolf down in the meantime. Though if his current healing was anything to go by, that was unlikely.   
  
Shaking his head, Frankenstein went back to writing his notes.   


* * *

  
Frankenstein breathed in and out, controlling his breathing. He had finished recording everything he could, which left learning how to control the transmutation.   
  
Which...  
  
Was proving more difficult than Frankenstein thought it would be.   
  
He could make reactions, transmute liquids into its other forms, but that was because he knew what he had to mix together to make it happen.   
  
This was different. He wanted it to happen, but that apparently wasn't enough.   
  
What had triggered the change last time? He hadn't been thinking about werewolves or their transmutation when it had happened.   
  
No. Not quite.   
  
It had happened when he'd heard the gossip about him outside his door.   
  
He'd...reacted with anger. Was anger what caused the transmutation? It had certainly been what happened with that werewolf, though pain might have also been a cause.   
  
Though had the werewolf that had dragged him out the carriage also been angry?   
  
Frankenstein sighed, pursing his lips.   
  
So many elements and differences he didn't have enough information about.   
  
He would figure it out eventually.  


* * *

  
Frankenstein rolled his quill between his fingers, studying the sheathed silver dagger in front of him.   
  
Silver worked. His self-enhancements worked.   
  
If there was a way he could gather more werewolf blood... And gather it in bigger quantities...   
  
He would need to be able to restrain werewolves to do that.   
  
Shackles? Shackles made of silver should work.   
  
He could have a set made in the meantime.   
  
He exhaled, dipping his quill in the ink pot. It may be another number of months before he had a chance to see another werewolf, but he could prepare himself before then.   


* * *

  
The shackles were well made, reflecting the sunlight coming in through his window. Though Frankenstein suspected he would soon need to wear gloves if he wanted to touch them. Or at least have some kind of barrier between his skin and the silver when he wanted to pick it up.   
  
Would they be strong enough to hold a werewolf? Would the reaction to silver be enough to keep them in place? Or could a werewolf break out of them easily?   
  
He wouldn't know until he tried using them.   


* * *

  
Frankenstein placed his hands palms down on his desk. He still hadn't any success in transmuting his nails again, and if it wasn't for the line of pinprick scars across his palms, he would have thought he had dreamed it.   
  
Merely wanting the transmutation to happen hadn't worked. But maybe it had also been the timing - he might not have left enough time to recover between the previous transmutation and his next attempt.   
  
The transmutation being tied to emotions was a possibility, so he would try it. He closed his eyes, concentrating.   
  
Anger was an easy emotion to reach for. The frustrations of seeing how helpless humanity was when faced with the actions of a noble or werewolf. The drips of information he gained about werewolves, the slow progress he was making. Too slow to be of help to anyone. The time he was wasting.   
  
The whispers that followed him in the hall that he wasn't sure if he was supposed to hear or not, with his new senses.   
  
The expectations that he was going to transmute in front of everyone and lay waste to everything in his path when they should know better.   
  
And yet, here he was, trying to transmute there.   
  
Frankenstein exhaled, opening his eyes. His nails were the same, but he knew that before he even looked - there hadn't been the familiar tingling feeling as before.   
  
Hm. Another failure. He picked up his quill, taking more notes. Maybe it wasn't anger that he needed, but that would a test for a different time.   


* * *

  
Someone knocked on Frankenstein's door and he turned his head towards it. "Come in."  
  
It was Filippo and Frankenstein sighed, standing up. "Someone else needing me to check over their work?" He was due to think about something else.   
  
Filippo gave him a wane smile. "Unless it's to check your own work," he said with a soft chuckle.  
  
Frankenstein frowned. "What do you mean?" His work had been a success, as slow as it was.   
  
"The tests?" Filippo said. "They'd failed."  
  
"I'd never..." Frankenstein sighed again. "You should stop listening to idle gossip - go to the source when you can, rather than trusting other people's word." Information got twisted with each retelling - Filippo should know that already.   
  
Filippo was staring at him in confusion. "I did. Osbern is considering what to do with the bodies - I was just confused why he wasn't discussing the issue with you as you were working on this together. Did he not tell you they'd expired?"   
  
Frankenstein chilled more with each word Filippo said. "No. He hadn't." His words were faint to his ears. This wasn't happening. Everything seemed a little more distant. "He's in his usual room?"  
  
Filippo shook his head. "They were moved to the medical wing." His lips twitched into a smile. "To make sure their smell wouldn't bother anyone."   
  
"Right. Of course. Thank you for informing me."   
  
When Filippo left, Frankenstein went to where he kept his books. His journal where he recorded his progress never left his side, but the journal where he noted his thoughts and processes... Once he started to change, he'd no longer needed that journal as much. He'd kept it here, just in case he needed to refer back to something later on.   
  
It had moved.   
  
Frankenstein had a system of how he ordered his books and he knew where his journal should have been.   
  
His journal had been moved.  
  
Had someone - Had Osbern-? When had it happened?   
  
He gritted his teeth and strode out of his room. It would be very easy to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iiii do not like creating or describing new characters. XDD;;


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains: Dead bodies

The smell of rotting meat grew the closer to the medical wing Frankenstein got. No-one else seemed to react to it, talking with each other or moving from room to room, and it must have been his enhanced sense of smell again.   
  
It was easy to track down where the source of the smell was, but Frankenstein paused when he opened the door, fury dissipating.   
  
Four bodies occupied the beds. He could tell by their pallor they were dead, but... That wasn't what drew his eye.   
  
Their cheeks were sunken, as if they had been starved, and hair was creeping in towards their nose in distinct triangular shapes.   
  
And their hands...   
  
Frankenstein took a shuddering breath. Their hands were lined with fur, their nails sharp.   
  
"Mm, Frankenstein? What are you doing here?" Osbern was on the other side of his room, inspecting one of the bodies.   
  
"What am _I_ doing here?" Frankenstein hissed, glaring at Osbern, fury returning to him. "What are _you_ doing here? What's this I hear that I am working with you, that _our_ work has failed, that people have _died_."   
  
Osbern snorted, rolling his eyes. "They were vagrants, no-one of importance."   
  
No-one of importance? "They were _people_ ," Frankenstein said, curling his hands into fists. "Our work is meant to help them, not kill them!"   
  
"Exactly!" Osbern said, nodding. "If only a few deaths that are needed to find out how everyone can benefit from our work, it will be worth it."   
  
Frankenstein sucked in a breath as his blood roared in his ears, pain stabbing into his palms. Dammit, not _now_.   
  
"Our work," Frankenstein repeated, trying to calm his thoughts, but his claws continued to dig into his palms. "And when did it become 'our' work when I had never given you any of my research?"   
  
Osbern pursed his lips. "We are working towards helping humanity, yet you work by yourself and for what? So that you can gain all the prestige when you reveal your work to the rest of the world? You only tested it on one person - and as I've clearly shown, it isn't ready for everyone else yet."  
  
"I'd never said it was," Frankenstein said quietly. And he had never wanted his name known - he worked to help humanity. Was that why Osbern had stolen his work? To be known?  
  
"Then work with me!" Osbern said intently, coming closer. "Your work is good, but it's unfinished. If we can figure out why it didn't work with these vagrants, then we'll be one step closer to helping humanity."  
  
Was...this worth it? Everything about Frankenstein buzzed, making it hard to think. He'd done everything to help humanity, but was this the cost? People had to die so that others could live, and not just because he was too slow?   
  
"I've already got a few more rounded up and coming in," Osbern continued, "so we can get started straight away." He peered at Frankenstein. "Are you all right? You're not normally this quiet."   
  
"Ah, yes," Frankenstein said, taking a breath. It was going to happen again. "You're right." Soon. "This is to benefit humanity. I ah, have more notes at home."   
  
Osbern broke out into a wide smile. "So that's why your notes didn't make sense - they were incomplete!"   
  
His work had been stolen from under his nose, and he'd never noticed. Frankenstein smiled back. "I'll go collect them right now."   
  
"I look forward to working with you," Osbern said as Frankenstein turned on his heel and left.   
  
How had he never noticed? His journal was constantly in his presence, and yet he'd never noticed when it had been taken from him, or returned.   
  
Because he'd never looked. He hadn't needed it again after he moved on.   
  
He'd assumed the only danger he needed to protect himself from was from werewolves and nobles, not his fellow alchemists.   
  
How could he have been so _foolish_?  
  
Frankenstein felt his nails recede and the transmutation left him winded, but he kept putting one foot in front of the other. His palms were slick with blood and he only hoped that his fists would keep them in place and that he wouldn't create a trail behind him.   
  
A trail that Osbern could use with his new round of experiments.   
  
He tightened his hands into fists so hard his arms shook. He could feel his body trying to transmute but he didn't have enough energy for it.   
  
Hah. Even know, he was gaining knowledge. He couldn't transmute so soon after exhausting himself.   
  
He went to his room, picking up his journals and dagger. He found the piece of cloth he used to wipe down his desk and cleaned his palms with it before leaving.   
  
Getting a carriage was easy and he sagged in his seat, feeling the familiar sway as it moved. But he couldn't rest, no matter how much he wanted to.   
  
He needed to think of what he was going to do now.   


* * *

  
The ride back home was both over far too quickly and dragged as if they'd been travelling through mud the entire time.   
  
Frankenstein checked his house once he was inside. He didn't find anything, but he hadn't expected to - he hadn't noticed anything wrong with his room in the Union, and his own home could be the same.   
  
He dropped his shoulders and slowly went to his bookshelf, seeing the wealth of knowledge he had gathered and discovered over the years.   
  
Had these been looked through by someone he didn't know? Was someone else using the information without his knowledge?  
  
Were more people being hurt because of his research? Dying?   
  
Frankenstein shuddered and started pulling his books down, throwing them into a pile.   
  
His heart was heavy as he set them alight, the journals catching easily.   
  
He couldn't let his work be used to hurt others.   
  
Frankenstein turned away when he was sure all the journals were burning. He needed to get ready.   
  
There wasn't much left he needed in his home: coins, some food and an extra set of clothes.   
  
He hesitated when his eyes fell upon the silver shackles. Would he see werewolves?   
  
He didn't know. It would be better to be prepared.   
  
When he picked them up with a cloth wrapped around his hand, he let out a short huff. He remembered the heft they'd had when he'd first carried them.   
  
They now almost felt the same weight as one of his journals.   
  
He was stronger than he was before.   
  
That was something to note later, when he was somewhere safer.   
  
Wherever that was.   
  
Frankenstein packed away the rest of the items he needed. He checked on the fire, prodding at it with a poker just to make sure it was burning thoroughly and then stole into the night.   
  
How long did he have? Osbern was slow-witted, but even he would become suspicious when Frankenstein didn't return after a few hours.   
  
Hopefully that would be enough to gain enough of a lead.   


* * *

  
Would he be able to hide from the Union? They had eyes everywhere and they would be displeased he'd ran instead of helping them continue to use people for experiments.   
  
Keeping moving should help, for a while.   
  
Frankenstein changed direction each time he arrived somewhere new, but he eventually stopped in a little village to the south-east.   
  
He needed food after the last journey and he scanned the market for something to eat.   
  
He ignored most of the hawkers' calls with ease but he was drawn to a stall selling fruits.   
  
"Oooh, it's dangerous to be travelling now," the old woman said as she watched him pick out what he wanted.   
  
It was always dangerous with werewolves and vampires roaming the lands. He smiled at her. "It's daylight now, so I'll be safe from vampires in the very least." He'd been attacked by werewolves when the sun was down as well - maybe they didn't like it as much either. Though he hadn't noticed a reaction to sunlight yet. Yet. There was still time.   
  
"Not from them, from one of our own!" she exclaimed. "There's a dangerous criminal on the loose," she said, shivering. "Stealing people from the streets and sacrificing them. Trying to get the power of the gods, he is."   
  
Frankenstein frowned. Why did that...  
  
She shook her head. "They say he even _succeeded_ , turning into a golden monster. What was his name again? Franken...? Something like that."   
  
Frankenstein controlled his breathing as he listened to her, still picking out a few fruits. "Yes, he does sound dangerous." It had only been a few days, and yet rumours had spread faster than he had travelled? "Thank you for the warning," he said as he exchanged money for her goods.   
  
"You be safe now!"   
  
He walked away, resisting the urge to pull up his hood. That would be suspicious, especially with the sun so warm overhead.   
  
Well. Now he knew what the Union did with deserters. He didn't want to find out what they would do if they caught him.   
  
Frankenstein eyed someone loading up their horse-drawn cart. Normally he would have asked for a ride, but that seemed too risky now.   
  
Would he be able to outrun a horse though? When word travelled so much faster?   
  
Without a ride he would be able to go places less travelled and hide better. Better than he originally was.   
  
He would need to gather a few more items before he left, and hope that the rumours didn't go into more detail of what he looked like.   


* * *

  
The trees were a blur as Frankenstein ran. He didn't know if he was faster than a horse, but it certainly _felt_ like it.   
  
He swore as he tripped over a root, sending him sprawling.   
  
He lay there, gazing up at the sky, counting his breaths and checking his heartrate. Before, jogging down the street would leave him winded but now...   
  
Well. He had no measurements he could record, but he had travelled much further and faster than he used to.   
  
The only difficulty he was having was that he couldn't keep up with what was happening. He could see the tree or the roots, but by the time he acknowledged they were there, he had already ran into them.   
  
He closed his eyes, huffing a small laugh. His enhanced healing took care for the scrapes at least. Hm.   
  
He got to his feet and dusted himself off, checking he hadn't dropped anything, before sprinting away again. He would have another small break the next time he fell.   


* * *

  
Frankenstein gazed up at the starry sky above before returning his focus to the crackling fire.   
  
Was he further than he would have been if he'd riden? He was for sure off the beaten track now. But would keeping on the move help? As soon as he went anywhere populated, there was a chance someone could recognise him from the rumours.   
  
Words were twisted with each retelling and so would his appearance. There would be many different versions of him already.  
  
It would be better to be cautious. Who knew who would hear the version closest to the truth.   
  
The blade reflected the camp fire as he bunched up his hair behind his head.   
  
The blade sliced cleanly through his hair.   
  
Hm.   
  
His head felt lighter.   
  
He would need to neaten it la... Would he? Maybe it would be better if he kept it unkempt. He would need to listen to the rumours to see how they described him before he decided.   
  
Frankenstein threw the hair into the fire, and they burned immediately. Better to not leave any trace of him anywhere.   
  
That task taken care of, Frankenstein turned his thoughts on where to go.   
  
Where could he go that the Union couldn't track him? Nowhere.   
  
The Union had connections everywhere, clearly. And word travelled fast. He would eventually be found.   
  
Was there anywhere the Union wouldn't think to keep an eye on? Wouldn't dare to go?   
  
Frankenstein frowned.   
  
He knew of two places where even the Union didn't dare to tread: the lands of the 'gods'.  
  
They didn't dare to go their sacred lands, only sending messages, asking for aid.   
  
Well.   
  
For nobles at least - werewolves didn't respond to appeals.   
  
It was said that nobles would help humanity whenever they crossed paths; Frankenstein hadn't seen much evidence of that but they might grant him some kind of protection if he went to them.   
  
Werewolves however...  
  
The land of the werewolves was forbidden to travel to, under any circumstances. It was too dangerous.   
  
Staying there should mean the Union couldn't track or follow him there.   
  
And if he was there, he could gather up more information about werewolves, rather than the late scraps he'd been getting over the years.   
  
...As if he would get reports of werewolf attacks now.   
  
And maybe, he would be able to find a way to stop werewolves from attacking humans there as well.  
  
Yes. That was where he would head next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Act 1 finally done, and Frankenstein finally actually heads to the werewolf territory! XD Jeez, so much set up, ahahaha.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains: dead body.

  
The werewolf lands were cooler than what Frankenstein was used to, and he kept his cloak on as he travelled, even during the day.  
  
They also smelled different in a way that Frankenstein couldn't place. More wet. He didn't recognise most of the fauna he encountered and hmm, that must also be attributing to the difference in smell.  
  
Now that he was here, he could start making somewhere to hide and do his research.  


* * *

  
It had taken a while for Frankenstein to finish building his lab to his liking. In between waiting for his tests to finish, he explored the area around him.  
  
Frankenstein paused as he walked, hearing something move ahead. Most animals ran when he was exploring, though there had been few times where they hadn't - he'd had to move fast and relearn how to climb trees with his new speed to get out of the way  
  
He crept forward, straining his eyes as he tried to find the creature.  
  
He halted seeing a familiar white cloak.  
  
A werewolf!  
  
One on their own and...Frankenstein's breath caught in his throat when the werewolf moved past some foliage, revealing their face.  
  
He _recognised_ that face, with the shoulder length black hair. It was one of the werewolves who had attacked him all those months ago.  
  
The werewolf hadn't noticed his presence yet and Frankenstein drew his dagger, trying to keep quiet.  
  
Would he be able to subdue the werewolf? There were no nobles to chase the werewolf away this time if he failed, but if he only stabbed the werewolf to gather his blood, the werewolf could chase him, or warn others he was in the area.  
  
Subdue or kill. It had to be one or the other.  
  
The werewolf was so _close_ , but still too far. He could use his transmutation to gain an extra bit of speed to close the gap - would that be enough? Frankenstein had gained enough control to call on the transmutation when he wanted, but it still drained him far too quickly.  
  
He must have still made a noise, because the werewolf slowed, turning around.  
  
No time! Frankenstein lunged, transmuting at the same time.  
  
He was able to see the werewolf's wide eyes before he sank the blade into the werewolf's arm, the werewolf blocking in time.  
  
The world span and his back cracked against a tree, the air thrown out of his lungs.  
  
He coughed as he scrambled to his feet, seeing the werewolf standing there, glaring at him as he clutched his arm, the blade still stuck inside. "What did you..." The werewolf's gaze grew distant, and Frankenstein could hear his laboured breathing.  
  
The werewolf wavered on his feet before collapsing.  
  
Hah... Interesting. That was a much faster reaction, in a less lethal area. Did werewolves have different sensitivities to silver?  
  
The werewolf he'd stabbed first was able to run off, but maybe he dropped after they left. Or maybe the noble had killed him.  
  
Frankenstein would never find out.  
  
...Hm. Or he might, here.  
  
Frankenstein was still getting used to the fact he had an abundance of information available to him now.  
  
But that was a matter to think about later.  
  
Frankenstein crept closer to the werewolf, watching for any reactions, but the werewolf was still. The werewolf still breathed, not dead, and the blood showed up starkly on the white cloak. There was no reaction when Frankenstein threw a rock close to him either.  
  
Good.  
  
When he checked the werewolf's pulse, it was fast, but Frankenstein didn't know what was normal for them. Frankenstein retrieved his dagger, sheathing it. Or maybe it was because the dagger had been left inside? It hadn't been left in longer than the other werewolf though...  
  
He gave the werewolf's body an experimental tug and then nodded. He could move it easily enough.  
  
Right, he should continue his thoughts when he was back in his lab - who knew when the werewolf would regain consciousness.  


* * *

  
Without the cloak in the way, it was easier to see the reaction the werewolf had with silver. A rash was spreading across his skin, hives already forming near the wound. Interestingly, the werewolf only wore the cloak with no other top layers underneath - did they not feel the cold as much as humans?  
  
The bleeding was already slowing by the time he had the werewolf hanging from the shackles.  
  
If that was how fast they healed with something they had an adverse reaction to... Their healing must be so much faster normally.  
  
Frankenstein sat down to take down notes before he forgot them.  
  
He looked up when he heard the shackles clink, the werewolf sucking in a breath.  
  
The werewolf tugged at the shackles but they held. Good.  
  
"What are you doing?" the werewolf hissed, curling his lip at him.  
  
Frankenstein raised an eyebrow, not quite able to hide his smile. It had worked! He could gain so much information this way! "I think it should be clear that I've restrained you."  
  
The werewolf narrowed his eyes at him, studying him. "You're that human... The one with your own claws." He paused. "You're different from last time."  
  
Frankenstein's smile widened. "Oh, good, you remember me." It would have been a shame if the werewolf didn't know why he'd been caught. And hm, werewolves were able to tell humans and werewolves apart on some level?  
  
The werewolf sneered, jerking at the shackles again. "Did you come all this way to ask for death because you lost the chance back then, human? You could have just waited - werewolves will eventually rule over you all."  
  
Frankenstein snorted, keeping an eye on the shackles. They were holding nicely, and he could see the werewolf's skin reacting to the silver. Reacting just with contact, not only when it was inside the body. Interesting. "Bold words for someone hanging from the ceiling."  
  
The werewolf snarled, throwing himself at Frankenstein. It had no effect. "Release me and we'll play." Frankenstein watched familiar hair creep in over the werewolf's cheeks before receding. "I'll show you just how weak humans are!"  
  
"Hmmm," Frankenstein drew out, "no. I have other things I would prefer to do." He had wasted enough time as it was. "Well then," he said, picking up a blade, "shall we begin?"  
  
The werewolf eyed him, uncertainty on his face as Frankenstein approached.  


* * *

  
There was a difference between the blood he collected fresh versus the dried blood. That had to be the reason for the difference - as well as he had much more here than the drops he'd collected before.  
  
Frankenstein rolled his quill between his fingers, just revelling in the joy of collecting information again. He hadn't been able to do that while he was travelling there; he had only been able to take hastily jotted notes while on the move rather than taking his time to consider everything carefully.  
  
He hadn't been able to do any tests either, and he was eager to get started again.  
  
Frankenstein hummed as he continued making his notes.  


* * *

  
Frankenstein checked the werewolf's pulse once more, feeling the cool skin. It showed no hint that a pulse would start again.  
  
Frankenstein smiled, vicious pride in his chest. While werewolves could take much more trauma than human bodies could (and their fast healing was fascinating to record), he had proof that werewolves could, in fact, die. And from human hands, at that.  
  
Humans wouldn't need help from nobles to protect themselves.  
  
Eventually. He still wouldn't be able to fight a pack of them by himself, but eventually he should be able to.  
  
One of the few non-fatal injuries they didn't seem to be able to heal well from was torn ligaments and tendons. It was something else he could aim for when he needed to.  
  
And while werewolves could heal, they still needed to breathe to live.  
  
He would have gotten more information if he'd kept the werewolf alive, but the longer the werewolf lived, the more chance he was giving the werewolf to escape. Now, there was one less werewolf around to hurt humans.  
  
But in death, he could still gain information. Now he could find out if their insides were similar to humans.  


* * *

  
Frankenstein wandered though the forest, listening for anything amiss. He had found a few werewolves just by paying attention to the cries of disturbed animals. Before, he arrived days too late, but at least he was now only an hour late.  
  
He would find more werewolves eventually.  
  
His transmutation had improved with every werewolf he caught as well. Golden fur had started to creep up his fingers, but no further, nor had he gained fur across his cheeks yet. And he was sure it was fur - it was coarser than his own hair, stiff and thicker.  
  
The stronger he grew however, the easier the werewolves were picking up on his presence. Was it because he was getting stronger, becoming more like them, and they could sense it? Or was he not being as cautious?  
  
He continued walking, ducking under a branch, and then froze, seeing a flash of red.  
  
Had he been seen? The werewolf didn't turn towards him. Good.  
  
Frankenstein squinted, trying to see through the foliage. The werewolf looked different from all the others Frankenstein had seen before. He had thigh-length silver hair, but his face was young looking. Though with how long werewolves were said to live, that didn't mean much.  
  
The werewolf wasn't wearing a white cloak like the others, and it was the dark red jacket that had stood out to Frankenstein. It was lined with grey fur along the cuffs and lapel.  
  
The jacket had half sleeves that helped to reveal all the deep scarring the werewolf had along his skin. Hm. Did that mean the werewolf had better or worse healing than the others Frankenstein had seen? The others had been unmarked, and that would normally mean this werewolf's healing was worse, but werewolves weren't normal. The scars could mean this werewolf had healed from injuries that had killed other werewolves.  
  
"Yo," the werewolf said, looking directly at him. Dammit! "You can come out."  
  
He needed to find out what exactly it was that was alerting the werewolves to his presence, and how to hide it.  
  
He'd lost the element of surprise, but if he could keep the werewolf underestimating him, he may still be able to catch the werewolf unawares.  
  
Frankenstein stepped out from where he was hiding, sliding out his dagger. The other werewolves hadn't paid it much mind, since it was 'only' in the hands of a human.  
  
The werewolf brightened at the sight of him. "Huh, you're human!" He blinked, studying Frankenstein. "But not?"  
  
It was a different reaction than Frankenstein was used to. One that wasn't immediately suspicious of him.  
  
"Hmm," the werewolf hummed, covering his mouth with a hand. "Are you Frankenstein?"  
  
Frankenstein stilled, his breath caught in his throat. How did the werewolf know his name? Had the rumours spread to even here? And why would the werewolves care?  
  
"What of it?" Frankenstein said, tightening his hand on the grip.  
  
"I heard there was a dangerous human around here by that name," the werewolf said, shrugging. "And a couple'a my warriors have disappeared in the meantime."  
  
Frankenstein narrowed his eyes at the werewolf, studying him. 'My' warriors. Frankenstein didn't know what kind of social structure werewolves had - was this one a higher ranking one? A captain or general?  
  
The werewolf studied him back. "You look like you could handle some warriors." He was still smiling though, nothing threatening in his demeanour.  
  
Frankenstein curled his lip. If he could anger the werewolf, he could distract him and then either try to take him down or run. But if this one was stronger than the others... Would he be able to do it? "I did. They had attacked humans so I was just doing some clean up to make sure they wouldn't do it again."  
  
The werewolf's eyes went wide. "Eh? My lot wouldn't attack humans."  
  
...Hm. That wasn't the reaction Frankenstein was expected, but it lent to some hope that this werewolf  
didn't look down on humans.  
  
"I was there when some werewolves dominated a village." Frankenstein tilted his chin up, showing off the scars at his neck. "It was only through the actions of the nobles that the werewolves were driven away." As much as it annoyed him to admit. "That wasn't the only attack - humans have been getting attacked by werewolves for years."  
  
The werewolf glanced down at the scars, and his brow rose. "You survived a werewolf attacking you? You're tough." He exhaled, scratching the back of his head. "Hn, I knew my lot kept getting chased away by nobles, but didn't know why."  
  
Frankenstein stared at him. "You didn't ask?" Did he not care?  
  
The werewolf shrugged. "Nobles and werewolves have been fightin' for centuries."  
  
Frankenstein let out a weak laugh. Humans really weren't important to them, except when they wanted something to fight over.  
  
"But if my lot have been attacking humans..." The werewolf's eyes narrowed, his lips pursed. "Well, come with me."  
  
He turned on his heel, walking away.  
  
Frankenstein stared after him. It...could be a trap, but the werewolves he'd seen so far didn't seem the type to do that; they didn't think and preferred to attack head on.  
  
Hm. Frankenstein followed before the werewolf left his sight, though the jacket helped him to stand out from the foliage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five parts in and Muzaka fiiiinally makes his appearance! \o/
> 
> This made me realise that Muzaka has a mullet and I hate it. :(


	6. Chapter 6

It was nice to meet a werewolf who didn't seem to look down on humans. Frankenstein kept a hold of his dagger though - he had been deceived before.   
  
As they walked, Frankenstein rubbed an arm and then looked down, frowning. Goosebumps had raised over his skin. What...? It was a warm day - he shouldn't be cold.   
  
And now that he was paying attention, Frankenstein could feel a weight softly pressing on his shoulders. An invisible weight that was far too familiar.   
  
Frankenstein stopped. "What are you doing?" he demanded, glaring. Was he being lead into a trap, where the pressure would increase until he couldn't move again?  
  
"Hm?" The werewolf looked at him over his shoulder. "Calling the others so I can talk with 'em."   
  
Summoning a group? Frankenstein still didn't move. "And do what?" One-on-one, Frankenstein could subdue a werewolf if he had the element of surprise; with a pack, he couldn't do that.   
  
"That'll depend on what I hear."   
  
Of course a werewolf wouldn't trust his word. But...it was still a better than what he'd seen of the other werewolves. Frankenstein started following him again.   
  
The pressure stayed in the air for a few more minutes, whatever the werewolf was doing, and they could use that pressure to communicate with each other over long distances? That had to be useful. Far more convenient than carrier pigeon and faster as well. Was there a pattern to the pressure or could the pressure only convey basic messages? Frankenstein continued to mull over the possibilities as they walked.   
  
When they stepped into a clearing, Frankenstein paused. He recognised the place. He found it a few weeks into his exploration - it was a big clearing with a throne hewn from stone. He hadn't thought much of it - he'd assumed it was a relic of an older time, since the clearing had been empty whenever he'd passed.   
  
It wasn't empty now, numerous werewolves circled around the front of the throne.   
  
The werewolves turned when they entered, and kneeled.   
  
What-?  
  
"My Lord."  
  
"Welcome back, Lord Muzaka."  
  
The murmurs from the werewolves' bowed heads  
made Frankenstein halt in his tracks.   
  
He glanced over his shoulder, and there was no-one else there.   
  
"Yo," the werewolf -Muzaka?- said, striding forward as he waved a hand in greeting. "Thanks for coming." Without hesitation he sat down on the throne.   
  
Frankenstein couldn't get his thoughts moving again - they were stuck on the fact that _that_ werewolf was the leader of the werewolves. Frankenstein didn't know much about them, but wasn't the Lord supposed to be the strongest of them all?  
  
He knew werewolves were long-lived, but he hadn't expected the Lord to appear so young, though that could explain the silver hair. It would also explain the difference in clothing from the other werewolves.   
  
And to run across the Lord's path so soon...  
  
Frankenstein became aware of the werewolves glancing in his direction in confusion as they stood up. It wasn't the glares or sneers of someone looking down on him though.  
  
And...if the Lord hadn't been aware that humans were being attacked, then it wasn't a concentrated effort by werewolves to dominate humans. It seemed safe enough and Frankenstein sheathed his dagger.  
  
"Maduke," Muzaka said, his attention on the other werewolf that wasn't wearing a cloak. A second in command? Did their clothing signify that? Then all the werewolves who wore white cloaks... All the werewolves he'd attacked wore the same - were they warriors? "Those werewolves you heard complain about being chased away by nobles..."   
  
Frankenstein couldn't stop the smile that broke out on his face. The other werewolves weren't paying attention to him anyway to see it.   
  
"Yes, my Lord?"  
  
"Can you bring them here? I wanna talk with 'em."   
  
"Of course, my Lord." Maduke disappeared with a hiss of rustling leaves.   
  
"Oi," Muzaka called over, "what're you still doin' all the way over there?" He gestured Frankenstein closer.   
  
Hhn. Again, he was entering a pack of werewolves clustered around him, but this time it was with his own will and not on his hands and knees.   
  
"This is Frankenstein," Muzaka said. "He told me somethin' pretty interesting."   
  
The other werewolves were looking at Frankenstein curiously again.   
  
Was this his cue to explain?  
  
"My Lord?" the red-haired werewolf said.   
  
Muzaka just smiled. "Better to wait until Maduke brings them here."  
  
That answered his question, then.   
  
It didn't take long before Maduke returned with two werewolves. One Frankenstein remembered.   
  
"Hey, you're the human with the claw!" one of them said, her eyes wide. She had short brown hair that stopped around around her ears.   
  
Maduke glared at the werewolf. He had had his mouth open to speak when the other spoke first.   
  
"Oh?" Muzaka said, resting his chin in his palm as he leaned on the armrest. "How'd you recognise him?"  
  
"It was when we'd attacked the human village a couple months ago," the brown-haired werewolf said, nodding.   
  
Frankenstein saw the werewolves around him glance at each other. What did that mean? To say that so brazenly, was attacking humans accepted amongst werewolves?   
  
Muzaka arched an eyebrow. "And why did you attack a human village?"   
  
"Because..." the werewolf trailed off, her eyes darting to her companion.   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
The silence hang heavily in the air, dragging out with each breath. The only sounds was the birdsong and the wind brushing through the trees.   
  
"You don't wanna answer?" Muzaka said, still relaxed on his throne.   
  
"A-ahm..."   
  
"So you just remembered I don't want anyone hurtin' humans?" Muzaka sighed. "Live with them if ya want, but don't try to rule over 'em. They're their own people."   
  
That was one of their rules? It wasn't quite the same as the nobles' creed to supposedly protect humans but hm, there was something in place.  
  
And how had he never heard of werewolves living with humans? Frankenstein only heard of the horror stories. Had he missed something in his research? Was that the excuse given whenever werewolves had been driven away by nobles? Or was it only the horror stories that spread, rather than the ones where werewolves could live harmoniously with humans?   
  
Muzaka gazed at the pair for a couple seconds. "Until you're willing to tell me, you'll be locked up. If you still won't tell me later, then you know what the punishment will be."   
  
They way the pair were staring at a spot below Muzaka's feet, it had to mean death.   
  
Muzaka looked at one of the werewolves in the circle and jerked his head to the side. The werewolf nodded and guided the pair away.   
  
Frankenstein frowned, watching them. No chains or shackles? ...But from the way the pair hunched as they walked, their feet dragging, were they being kept in place by the other werewolf's presence?   
  
An invisible power that he wouldn't have been able to know about or measure just from the blood...   
  
"Maduke," Muzaka said, turning his attention to the other werewolf, "if anyone else comes to you complainin' about nobles chasing them away from human settlements, let me know."  
  
Maduke ducked his head. "Of course, my Lord."   
  
"How long will they be detained for?" Frankenstein asked, watching the trio disappear into the treeline.  
  
"Until I get back," Muzaka said as he stood up, interlinking his fingers and stretching his hands towards the sky. "I can question 'em again then."   
  
Frankenstein snapped his focus back to Muzaka. "'Until you get back'...?" Frankenstein repeated quietly. Was he saying-?  
  
"Yep," Muzaka said, grinning as he swung his arms down, and gone was the quiet seriousness he'd displayed moments before. "I'm gonna go travelling now."  
  
"You are _not_ ," Frankenstein ground out, drawing himself up. It didn't do much, with Muzaka standing on the throne foundation adding to his height. "That's not all of the werewolves that acted against your word." Did he not _care_?  
  
Frankenstein heard the other werewolves suck in breaths but he continued glaring at Muzaka, not breaking eye contact.   
  
"Just how long are these trips of yours?" he demanded.   
  
"You will lower your lip towards the Lord!" a red-haired werewolf snapped at him.   
  
Was baring teeth considered threatening to werewolves? They'd mentioned that the first time he'd encountered them as well.   
  
Muzaka waved her down with a chuckle. "It's fine." He turned back to Frankenstein, his expression still clear and friendly. "They're a couple months at a time, not that long," he said. "They'd still be here."   
  
Frankenstein pursed his lips. Damned long-lived werewolves. Of course they had the time to just wait until later. "That was only two werewolves - there were at least ten werewolves who attacked that day." Even though he had caught and killed a few, that still left more from that one attack roaming free to attack humans again. "They won't be the only ones who attack humans, and what would happen if they escape or are let out before you return?"  
  
"They won't."  
  
Muzaka trusted his people that much, even after they had proven capable of breaking the rules he'd set?   
  
"Just like they wouldn't hurt humans?" Frankenstein retorted, glaring.   
  
Muzaka stilled, gazing at him. "...Hm."  
  
Muzaka didn't say anything for a few seconds, his brow furrowed. "All right, I'll stay," Muzaka said, nodding.   
  
...He'd listened to him and changed his mind? Though, Muzaka had already proven he was willing to listen, but it was still a surprise.   
  
"So what'll you be doin', Frankenstein?" Muzaka asked him.   
  
Frankenstein arched a brow. "I'll be staying until I'm sure humans aren't in danger from werewolves anymore." That was one of the main reasons why he was there, after all.   
  
Muzaka grinned. "Great!"  
  
Muzaka really didn't act like any leader Frankenstein knew of...  


* * *

  
Frankenstein felt lighter as he walked back to his lab. More settled.   
  
He had been able to kill a few werewolves, yes. But now that their Lord was aware and keeping an eye on things, that should make things easier.   
  
It might make it harder, if those werewolves went underground and hid, but it at least meant they wouldn't attack humans as often.   
  
He sighed. What would the werewolf Lord's blood look like in comparison to his other samples? There shouldn't be much difference, but maybe there _was_ , and the only way for him to find out would be to see it himself.   
  
There was very little chance he would get a sample from Muzaka, however.   
  
Well. He could continue his research in the meantime. 


	7. Chapter 7

Now that he knew the throne clearing was in use, Frankenstein avoided it over the next week. It could be interesting to see how werewolves resolved other issues but it wasn't that important, and not everything would be focused around humans, if any. That would be if he was allowed to listen in as well.   
  
He continued his exploration of the island, mapping the area and finding areas of interest. The fauna was different from anything Frankenstein had encountered before and hm, could it have something to do with being separated from the mainland? Growing in a different way... Were the werewolves unintentionally influencing them, or was it something else?   
  
His hand flew to his dagger hilt when someone jumped down from one of the tree branches above.   
  
It was one of the werewolves that Muzaka had called to him. The redhead that had snapped at him for baring his teeth at Muzaka.   
  
"Oh, hello," Frankenstein said, watching her. What did she want?   
  
The werewolf didn't say anything for a few seconds, looking him up and down. "Would you like to spar?"   
  
Frankenstein raised his eyebrows. Well then. That was unexpected. "I'm surprised you'd want to spar with a human." With the differences between them, it should be an easy fight. Though, his surprise was from his earlier perceptions of werewolves; maybe the criminals were the minority, rather than the norm.   
  
"Hmm," she said, still studying him, her brow furrowed. "You're...interesting. I want to know how a human was strong enough to take down werewolf warriors."   
  
"Not everything is won through brute strength," Frankenstein told her lightly.   
  
The werewolf just gave him a blank look at that.   
  
"Though it does help, for the most part," Frankenstein admitted. Or else humanity wouldn't be struggling against every werewolf attack. If he hadn't gained the werewolf strength, he wouldn't have been able to hit the werewolves with the dagger in the first place.   
  
"I doubt you'd want to see exactly how I took down your brethren, since I used silver to do it," he added.   
  
Her gaze drifted down to where he kept the dagger. She looked at him again. "You still haven't answered my question," the werewolf said.   
  
Oh. "You still want to spar?" Were werewolves that interested in fighting?  
  
"Preferably without the silver though," the werewolf said, a small smile curling her lips. "I want to see what your transformation looks like."   
  
"My transformation?" Frankenstein repeated. The transmutation?  
  
She nodded. "Your claws. I haven't heard of a human getting claws before."   
  
So that's what they called it. If things went well, more humans would be able to.   
  
There was a chance it was trap though. A 'friendly fight' where he conveniently ended up dying. No-one would suspect foul play.   
  
But the information he could gather about how they used their transmu... Transformation. Transformation. That was what they called it.   
  
"All right," Frankenstein said.   
  
The werewolf grinned, flinging off her cloak-  
  
Frankenstein averted his eyes, taking a startled step back.   
  
"Huh? What's wrong?"  
  
Why was she _asking_? "I, ah, thought this was a spar?" Had he misunderstood her intentions?   
  
"Yeah, that's why I took off my cloak," the werewolf said. "Take yours off already so we can start."   
  
Frankenstein ran through the conversation they'd had and couldn't find any hint that she'd wanted anything different. ...Unless this was a difference in werewolf communications?   
  
"When one asks to spar with another, that means you want to fight each other, yes?" Frankenstein asked. It would be best to clear this up as soon as possible.   
  
"Yeah? Does it mean something else to humans?"  
  
"No..." Frankenstein said, making sure his gaze didn't go lower than her face. "I was surprised when you removed your cloak. Disrobing to, ah, show that much skin usually means an intent for more... _intimate_ relations for humans."   
  
The werewolf raised her eyebrows before an amused smile grew on her face. "Getting rid of your cloak signals the want and readiness for a fight to start."   
  
Cultural differences. Right. The other werewolves he'd seen and fought hadn't done that, but they had been criminals, and he'd never given them the chance to.   
  
...This was going to take some getting used to... "And not taking off the clothing is seen as a refusal?"   
  
The werewolf nodded.   
  
All right. "When in Rome..." Frankenstein murmured, pulling off his tunic.   
  
"You really haven't done that a lot, have you?" the werewolf said, amusement clear in her tone as she watched him set his tunic to the side.   
  
"I've never had need to do it with the flair that you did," Frankenstein replied. "Shall we begin?"   
  
The werewolf grinned at him. "You start."   
  
...Hm. This was different from his usual sneaking tactics. The werewolf had already had ample chances to attack Frankenstein and hadn't.   
  
He would leave the dagger out of the spar.   
  
Frankenstein drew on the now familiar energy, his nails transm - trans _forming_ as he lunged forward. He gritted his teeth, his palms stinging as he pressed his claws into them.   
  
He reached her as he unfurled his fingers.   
  
As soon as he did, he had enough time to register her hand grabbing his wrist before he was slammed to the ground, his hand held behind his back. The impact jolted him enough to let go of the transformation.   
  
...Dammit. In a fair fight with a werewolf, he had no chance.   
  
The werewolf didn't say anything for a few seconds. "You're not used to fighting like us, are you?" He felt her spreading his fingers, prodding his palm near the wounds.   
  
"No..." he admitted. "I'm far more comfortable with a blade in my hand, and humans don't use claws to fight." The habit of making a fist in a fight was far too strong.   
  
"Hm." She stood up, letting him go. "Once your wounds have healed up, we'll try again."   
  
Frankenstein didn't move, blinking. "What?"   
  
"What?"  
  
He got to his feet, but she was waiting patiently a short distance away. "You want to continue?"  
  
She tilted her head, furrowing her brow. "Of course. We've just started."  
  
There was something in her manner... "I wouldn't have thought I would make a good sparring partner for you."   
  
She blinked at that, not saying anything for a few seconds. "...And what does sparring partner mean to humans?"   
  
...Huh. It was good to know the confusion would go both ways. "Hm," he said, tapping his lips, "a person you spar with regularly. For werewolves...?"  
  
She frowned, her brow furrowing. "It's someone...who's equal to you in strength and you can push each other to get stronger together."   
  
That...sounded the same? What was the nuance he was missing?   
  
She huffed, seeing his blank expression. "Yes, you can spar regularly with anyone, but a sparring partner is someone you could spar with every day and never tire of it. Or not spar and enjoy your time with them because you don't tire of their presence."   
  
Aaah, he was starting to understand. "I wasn't asking for a, hm, committed relationship," Frankenstein said, shaking his head, "merely that it didn't seem like I would give you an interesting fight." Seeing how it had ended in one swift move.   
  
The werewolf smiled softly at that. "No, but maybe in time, once you've learned more."   
  
Frankenstein studied her, turning her words around in his head. "Are you...offering to teach me how to fight like a werewolf?" She hadn't pressed any advantages she'd had, hadn't used more force than necessary, and was waiting for him to recover before starting again.   
  
She raised an eyebrow. "Haven't we already began?"  
  
...So they had.   
  
She grinned at him. "Ready to go again?"   
  
Frankenstein rubbed his palms with a thumb. The blood had dried and there were no open wounds under it.   
  
He returned her smile. "Yes."  


* * *

  
Frankenstein panted as he stared up at the sky, laying on his back. Mmm, no, he couldn't continue any further. He wasn't sure if his legs would be able to hold his weight. Everything ached, his heart racing.   
  
He could see the reason for removing their cloaks beforehand now - with claws involved, it would have been destroyed within a few slashes. Even though throughout the spars, the werewolf hadn't transformed - she still trounced him soundly.  
  
"You learn pretty quick," the werewolf said as she walked over. "My name's Garda." She held out a hand towards him.  
  
...Ah, right. They'd never formally introduced themselves to each other. "Frankenstein," he said, taking her hand.   
  
She pulled him to his feet. He stumbled a step before he caught himself.   
  
"We'll get washed up and then we'll get something to eat," Garda said, picking up her cloak. "Dinner should be ready soon."   
  
Frankenstein stared after her. "Dinner?" She made it sound as if it was already being prepared.   
  
"The evening meal? How often do you humans eat?"   
  
Well. "We're meant to eat three meals a day." Though he hadn't always succeeded, too engrossed in his work.   
  
"Then it's time to eat. The others'll like seeing you."  
  
...The others?   


* * *

  
Where the werewolves had dinner was on one of the neighbouring islands, which would explain why Frankenstein hadn't encountered many werewolves since he'd arrived.   
  
He could smell the cooking meat even before he heard the rumbling crowd.   
  
When they reached the source of the sounds and smells, Frankenstein paused at the sight of so many werewolves in one place. There were multiple campfires, each one roasting a different animal. Around each one were werewolves sitting together, chatting.   
  
"Hey, Garda!" one werewolf called out, waving her over.   
  
Hm. Where should he go...? Frankenstein drank in the sight of so many werewolves together. Not everyone wore the white robes - there were others who wore more than one layer, and hm, what was the difference? It seemed the ones who were younger wore multiple layers, but there were also adults who did as well, so if white robes signified warriors, was there something else in the others' clothing that would-  
  
"Frankenstein?"   
  
Garda had taken two steps away before turning back to look at him.   
  
Oh. He followed her to one of the campfires.   
  
"So who's this?" the one who had called Garda over asked. He looked more like a bear than a human, his blond hair tied in a braid over his shoulder. "I haven't seen you around before."   
  
"I would be surprised if you had," Frankenstein said. "Frankenstein."   
  
He noticed out of the corner of his eye the other werewolves around the campfire lean forward when he said that.   
  
"The human who grew his own claws?"   
  
"...Yes." It seemed like that would be his moniker with werewolves. There were worse things to be called. And it seemed that as different as werewolves were to humans, they were also prone to gossip.   
  
"Heh, you should tell us how you did that," the first werewolf said, offering him a filled cup.   
  
He took the cup, sitting down. He wouldn't go into the specific details, but...it did look like he would be at the centre of attention for a while.   


* * *

  
Frankenstein set his cup down beside him, massaging the back of his neck. "I've enjoyed my time but I should be heading back."   
  
He smiled at the disappointed calls, but stood up and left anyway. He found where to wash his plate and set it on the pile afterwards.   
  
Frankenstein listened as he walked away, hearing the voices fade with each step.   
  
He exhaled, relaxing once he couldn't hear them anymore. That...had been more of a shock than he thought it would be. After spending months on the run and before that, spending most of his time alone, it was overwhelming to be speaking with that many people at once. They were curious and drew him into their conversations, but he was far more used to staying back and observing.   
  
Frankenstein kept an ear out in case he was followed, but all he heard was the insect nightlife.   
  
He was more drained after all the social interaction than the spars with Garda. Granted, he had talked for longer but...   
  
He would be glad when he reached his lab again. It had been a tiring day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a fic that's all about gaining strength, I'm just skipping past the actual spars, because they're kinda boring for me to write, haha.


	8. Chapter 8

  
  
It had been another couple weeks while Frankenstein continued mapping the throne island. 'Throne island', because that was the only structure so far he had found there. The other islands would be far more populated, from what he'd seen. Was this island used only for important discussions?  
  
"Yo."   
  
Frankenstein's hand went to his dagger before he recognised Muzaka standing there in front of him. He huffed. Was it a habit of werewolves to appear out of nowhere? Or did they have a way to announce their presence that he didn't know?  
  
Well, there was that pressure they could generate...   
  
"Heard you were fightin' some of my warriors," Muzaka said, smiling. "They're pretty excited about you."   
  
"Yes," Frankenstein said, loosening his grip on his dagger, "I've had a number of visitors already." More gossip, spreading even as high as the Lord. Werewolves and humans really were similar.   
  
The warriors had been interested seeing his transformation, and he'd learned something new with each one, even if they hadn't intended to teach him.   
  
"Wanna spar with me?"   
  
Frankenstein's eyebrow arched up. The werewolf Lord, the strongest of all the werewolves, wanted to spar with _him_?   
  
Well.   
  
The answer was easy.   
  
Frankenstein pulled his tunic off in one swift motion, seeing Muzaka's eyes light up. He had gotten used to the stripping down before each fight, though he was still loathe to throw his tunic in any direction. Maybe he should make a cloak for ease as well.  
  
Muzaka's jacket was off to the side before Frankenstein had found a suitable branch to hang his tunic from.   
  
Without the jacket, it was easier to see how deep Muzaka's scars were. A number of the attacks must have pierced bone.   
  
"Show me what'cha got," Muzaka said, grinning.   
  
Frankenstein didn't get to reply, only having enough time to see Muzaka rush towards him.   
  
He transformed, ducking out of the way of Muzaka's swipe. Frankenstein slashed down.   
  
Muzaka caught his wrist, leaving him wide open. He saw Muzaka's free hand swing towards him.   
  
Gritting his teeth, Frankenstein yanked back, slashing at the arm holding him.   
  
Feeling his claws cut through skin was a surprise, as was the smell of blood that accompanied it. He normally missed or the other werewolf dodged out the way.   
  
He stumbled back a step as Muzaka let go of him. Muzaka was still grinning though.   
  
"That was great!"   
  
Before Frankenstein could think about mentally celebrating, Muzaka attacked again. It was clear this was going to be the flow to the spar, Muzaka keeping the pressure up rather than waiting for him recover and attack first.   
  
Frankenstein would just have to hope his transformation would be able to last throughout.   


* * *

  
Frankenstein was lightheaded as he leaned back against a tree and slid down, gulping in as much air as he could. His fingers ached. _Everything_ ached.   
  
"You can hold yer transformation for pretty long," Muzaka said, stretching.   
  
Could he? It felt like had been the longest he'd held his transformation, but an internal perception of time wasn't an accurate measurement. If Muzaka thought so however...   
  
It had also been the longest continuous fight he'd been in so far. The others usually paused the spar after something he'd done to correct it or show him a better way to do it. A good way to learn, and it seemed with Muzaka he was using everything he'd learned against him. Putting it all into practice.   
  
"And when do I get to see _your_ transformations in a fight?" Frankenstein panted. None of the werewolves had used their transformation against him. As much as he was learning, he wanted to see them use their transformation as well - he wanted to see and observe what they did too.   
  
"Eh?" Muzaka looked at him, surprised. He swept a hand over the a trail of blood over his body. Underneath, his skin was unmarked, no sign at all there had been a wound there.   
  
That healing was incredible... Frankenstein lamented seeing all those potential blood samples that he couldn't collect. The spars with the other werewolves were the same - the blood would be too contaminated under his nails or he wouldn't know which blood was his and which one was the werewolf's. A waste that he couldn't learn even more from the spars.   
  
"If we transformed, the fight would be over as soon as it started and you wouldn't learn anything from it."   
  
Frankenstein narrowed his eyes at him, considering his words. "So I need to become stronger before I see your transformation."   
  
Muzaka smiled and nodded. "Yeah."   
  
A simply put goal. Though not as easily done. He reached his limit with the transformation too quickly to do much. It was all right with the other spars - he could regain some energy while the other werewolf showed him something new, but in a fight with no such breaks... He would need to find a way to conserve his energy.   
  
"All right," Frankenstein said as he pushed himself to his feet.   
  
Muzaka came over with his tunic. "C'mon, let's get something to eat." He clapped Frankenstein on the shoulder, guiding him towards the eating area.   


* * *

  
Frankenstein was used to the slight quietening when he showed up, but the buzz continued longer than usual. Hm? Was something different?   
  
"Yooo, if it isn't Lunark!" Muzaka called out, aiming for the closest campfire. Huh, the Lord ate with everyone else? Frankenstein had been too distracted during the walk over with putting one foot in front of the other to even consider they would go somewhere different.   
  
Frankenstein nodded towards Panska as he sat down. The bear of a werewolf handed him a cup, pouring water into it.   
  
"So I heard _someone_ just gained her claws," Muzaka said, chatting with a young woman with shoulder length brown hair, the woman perking up at the words.   
  
...Maybe it wasn't so strange that Muzaka had heard werewolves talking about him when he heard about children reaching their coming of age marker.   
  
Though knowing about such things were important to the populace, and meant Muzaka knew what was going on with his people.   
  
"Do you want to see, Lord Muzaka?" the werewolf, Lunark, asked.   
  
"Heh, of course I do!"   
  
Lunark held her hands up and with a yell, her nails grew into claws, fur racing up her arms. Fur also grew along her cheeks.   
  
There was a chorus of cheers from the werewolves as Lunark let go of her transformation, beaming at them.   
  
"Veeery nice!" Muzaka said, ruffling her head. "They look sharp and strong."   
  
Well, if they were focused on her, that meant he could keep back and listen.   
  
"Hey, Frankenstein," Panska said, and Frankenstein turned to him. "Are you only coming to visit when you get dragged in by whoever you've sparred with?" But Panska was grinning at him.   
  
Ah. Well. It seemed he wouldn't be spared talking for _this_ evening either.   


* * *

  
"I'm gonna turn in for the night," Muzaka said as he stood up and Frankenstein looked at him, surprised.   
  
That was early to leave, even for him.   
  
There were a few disappointed noises, but none of the cajoling to come back like Frankenstein experienced when he left early.   
  
Hm. "I have my own matters to attend to, so I'll be leaving also," Frankenstein said, collecting his plate and cup. This time, a few werewolves called out to him to stay and there really was an undercurrent of difference between how they treated their Lord than someone else.   
  
Muzaka's silver hair stood out against the trees, and Frankenstein hurried after him before Muzaka started running.   
  
"I would have thought you would be the last to leave," Frankenstein said once he caught up. Muzaka seemed like he would have enjoyed spending hours talking with everyone if he knew about everyone's business. Though...he'd never seen Muzaka at any of the meals he'd been at before. Maybe they had merely arrived at different times.   
  
Muzaka smiled softly at that, his gaze focused forward. "They're still surprised seein' me so much, heh. An' while I like talkin' with 'em, I've been talking with people all day already."   
  
Yes, that _would_ be tiring. Spending the night chatting to people took more out of Frankenstein than entire day with his experiments. A whole day of talking with people would be _exhausting_.  
  
"Hm, Muzaka," Frankenstein said, "I was wond-" He cut himself off, seeing Muzaka's wide-eyed look at him.   
  
...Ah, dammit.   
  
"You called me Muzaka," Muzaka said, his eyes still wide.   
  
He had been so used to referring to Muzaka by his name in his head, he had forgotten about his title.   
  
"That's great!" Muzaka said, grinning.   
  
...What?  
  
"Aaah, I can't get the others to call me by just my name!" Muzaka said, and even while saying that his gait seemed looser.   
  
Huh. It was a far better reaction than he expected. "Then I'll continue calling you Muzaka," Frankenstein said. Calling him Lord would have left a bad taste in his mouth after his first encounter with werewolves.   
  
Muzaka grinned at him. "So what were you saying?"  
  
Ah, right. "It's taken you almost a month to check up on me - I thought you would have came earlier to keep an eye on me." He was a stranger in Muzaka's land - that would arouse suspicion and a need to watch him.   
  
"Oh, that's it?" Muzaka shrugged. "My warriors have been doin' that without me askin'."   
  
Of course. Gossipers. The easiest way for word to spread.   
  
"And when word got out I was stickin' around, there was a lot of people coming to see me," Muzaka continued. "So I was kept busy anyway."  
  
Frankenstein arched an eyebrow at him. "And were they matters that could have been dealt with at a later time?"  
  
Muzaka scratched his cheek, a small sheepish smile on his lips. "They weren't urgent, but they were needin' to be resolved." He looked back at Frankenstein. "Did find a couple more werewolves who'd attacked human villages though."   
  
Frankenstein smiled. "Good."   


* * *

  
Frankenstein bounced on his toes, waiting for Muzaka to attack. If he could keep enough presence of mind during this spar... It might help.   
  
The good thing was-  
  
Muzaka dashed forward.  
  
Frankenstein dodged. He transformed, aiming his claws low. Aiming high seemed to always leave him open to getting caught. He scored a hit and he jumped back, letting go of his transformation.   
  
Good. That worked.   
  
Muzaka held a hand to his bleeding side for a second, before he grinned and lunged forward again.   
  
Now to see if his plan would hold up for the longer run.   


* * *

  
Frankenstein leaned against a tree, feeling the bark press against his slick skin. He breathed in and out deeply, but he stayed on his feet. That was an improvement.   
  
"You did a bunch better this time!" Muzaka said, tossing him his tunic.   
  
"Mmmn," he replied, catching it. He almost didn't, everything feeling weighted down. He let his arm drop, holding his tunic. He would put it on later after they'd washed up.   
  
"I haven't seen anyone use their transformation like that," Muzaka said, wiping the blood away.   
  
"Well," Frankenstein said, brushing his hair away from his face, "I don't have your stamina, so using my transformation...only when it's needed seemed to be the most efficient way to use it."   
  
Muzaka nodded, grinning at him. "You caught me out a couple times, heh."   
  
"That was the point," he said wryly. And by letting it go, it made it harder for his opponent to predict where he would be if he boosted his speed or strength at a different time. It also left him open for hits, but the benefits still outweighed the drawbacks, until he tired himself out too much.   
  
The next step aside from training his stamina would be to figure out how to make his hits more effective. He could hit Muzaka, but those were essentially just scratches.   
  
Though that might just be Muzaka's ridiculous healing...   
  
"There's something I don't understand," Frankenstein said as he straightened with a grimace. Moving hurt after he'd stopped for a while.   
  
"Yeah?" They started walking in the direction of the river to wash up.   
  
"It's you," Frankenstein said. One step in front of the other. He would recover soon enough and stopping would make it worse. "You'd heard what's said of me: that I'm a monster who preys on my own kind. And yet, you let me stay on your land." Welcomed him, almost. The werewolves had accepted him and visited him, letting him eat with them. It had been turning in his mind for a while now.   
  
Muzaka chuckled. "You think I listen to rumours?"  
  
Frankenstein eyed him from the corner of his eyes. "You did when we first met, and you listen to your warriors talking about me." As well as any other news about his people by the sound of it.   
  
"Hmm, true." Muzaka stretched, resting his arms behind his head. "All right - I listen to rumours, but I don't believe 'em until I see it with my own eyes. The rumour was you'd attacked other humans and tried to get power that humans aren't s'posed to." He shrugged. "You want to get stronger and the only people you've hurt here, it was to protect humans. That's fine."   
  
"...Yes," Frankenstein said with a sigh, "you are definitely hard to understand." That wasn't what happened with humans when they'd heard about him. It had to be because he was amongst werewolves - they thought differently from humans, with their focus on getting stronger.   
  
Muzaka just looked back at him in puzzlement.   
  
Maybe in time he would understand them better.


	9. Chapter 9

Hmmm. Frankenstein wrote a note in his journal, chasing the thought. But if that were the case-  
  
The candles in Frankenstein's lab flickered. He froze, staring at them. There was no way for that to happen unless-  
  
The door to his lab creaked.   
  
Dammit, he'd been found!   
  
He looked up, seeing familiar long silver hair and a dark red jacket. Muzaka.  
  
He exhaled in relief. Not another alchemist trying to steal his data.   
  
But how had Muzaka found-  
  
Frankenstein frowned, seeing the dirt Muzaka was bringing in, and how Muzaka was eyeing his vials.   
  
"Muzaka," Frankenstein said, his tone clipped, "if you continue to drag dirt into my lab, or mess up any of my tests, I will put you through the _wall_." Strongest werewolf or not, this was _his lab_ and he would protect its results.   
  
"Oh?" Muzaka said, his eyebrows arched as he...grinned, moving closer the experiments Frankenstein had set up near the door. "Is that a promise?"  
  
...Damn werewolf. Of course he would take a threat of violence as an invitation to a spar. "Fine," Frankenstein said, exhaling. He needed to change it to something Muzaka would care about. "If you track dirt or mess up my tests, I won't spar with you for-" What was considered a long time for a werewolf? "-a _year_." Not that long for a werewolf, but considering how often Muzaka sought him out for a spar, it should be enough.   
  
It would be a shame to lose the wealth of information from Muzaka, but he was not jeopardising his research.   
  
Muzaka froze, his eyes going wide. He backed away from his vials, keeping his hands to himself. "No touchin'. Got it."   
  
Frankenstein huffed, a small smile curling his lips. It was nice that Muzaka listened to him and took him seriously.   
  
Muzaka peered at Frankenstein's desk, at his journal. Frankenstein flipped it shut. Muzaka shouldn't be able to read it with his encryption, but it would be better to be safe.   
  
"So what're you doing here anyway?" Muzaka said, his gaze going to everything else in the room.   
  
"Aside from living here?" Frankenstein said dryly. "This is where I conduct my tests for my research." He waited for the distaste or suspicion that normally came when someone found out what his profession was. 'Trying to look into the work of the gods', but he was currently _in_ the land of the gods right now...  
  
Muzaka nodded. "What about?"  
  
Frankenstein blinked, eyeing him. He wanted to know? "I'm studying the difference between humans and werewolves, so that humans may be enhanced to gain your strengths as well."  
  
"Hm." Muzaka tilted his head, looking back at him. "Is that why you're like that? A human with a hint of a werewolf?"  
  
That sense again, that they just _knew_ about him. Was it smell? Something else? "Yes..." Frankenstein drew out. "I've enhanced myself with the blood of the criminals I'd captured earlier."   
  
He should ask how werewolves were able to-  
  
"You want some of my blood?"  
  
Frankenstein's thought died as he stared at Muzaka. "What?"  
  
"You're studyin' our blood, right?" Muzaka shrugged. "You can have mine if you want."  
  
'If you _want_ '? He could just _have_ -  
  
Muzaka's eyebrows were drawn in in concern, peering at Frankenstein's face. "You all right?"   
  
"Why-" Frankenstein cleared his throat, still trying to get his thoughts back in order after Muzaka had so soundly sideswiped him. "Ah, why are you offering?" Wouldn't Muzaka want to keep their secrets away from 'mere mortals'?   
  
"You're doin' this to get stronger, yeah?" Muzaka said, nodding. "That's great! I wanna help with that."  
  
Frankenstein exhaled, sagging in his chair as he ran a hand through his hair. All this time. All this time he'd wanted Muzaka's blood and he could have just asked and been given it...  
  
"You don't want it?"  
  
"No, no," Frankenstein said, straightening and waving his hands in a negative gesture. "I was just...surprised by your generosity." Very surprised. "Hold still." Frankenstein got up to collect everything he needed to gather Muzaka's blood, in case he changed his mind.   
  
Once he'd picked up everything he needed, he went back to Muzaka, gesturing him towards the chair at his desk. "Sit there."   
  
Muzaka did, though his attention was caught by the blade in Frankenstein's hand. "Why're you usin' that? Just use your claws."  
  
Frankenstein turned the blade over in his hand, before he shook his head. "I would prefer a clean sample." The dirt under his nails could introduce multiple different things to Muzaka's blood that he didn't want to see.   
  
The confusion didn't leave Muzaka's face, but he sat down.   
  
Frankenstein made the cut, letting the blood drain into the bowl waiting underneath. That should be enough to...   
  
Even as Frankenstein thought, he could _see_ the cut already closing up, the trail of blood growing smaller.   
  
"...Hm," Frankenstein said, watching it do that. "I hadn't accounted for your accelerated healing."   
  
"So...?"  
  
Frankenstein tapped the side of the bowl. "I either make use of what I've collected so far-" Which wasn't much. "-or I make more cuts until I have a good enough amount."  
  
Muzaka shrugged. "Take as much as you need."   
  
"Thank you," Frankenstein said, making another cut. It was another good flow of blood and Frankenstein's gaze drifted towards Muzaka's other scars. They were ragged at the edges and hm.   
  
This close, Frankenstein could see his first cut hadn't made a scar, so what had happened to Muzaka that left such an effect on him? Had the injuries been that grievous that even his healing couldn't completely seal it over, or had he gained better healing abilities as he aged?   
  
"That should be enough," Frankenstein murmured, leaning back after the third cut had sealed itself off. He wetted a cloth, cleaning the blood away from Muzaka's arm.   
  
"Great," Muzaka said, standing up.   
  
Frankenstein took the chair back, jotting down his observations about the speed of Muzaka's healing.   
  
When he looked up, Muzaka was still there.   
  
"Oh," Frankenstein said, blinking. "I thought you would have left?" He had satisfied Muzaka's curiosity now, had he not?  
  
"Nah, I wanna see what you do with it," Muzaka said, leaning back against one of the tables.   
  
...Huh. Frankenstein studied him. Muzaka wasn't an alchemist who wanted his research. Just someone who was curious in what he was doing.   
  
A potential student? If not, in the very least, someone he could encourage his curiosity.   
  
Frankenstein beamed at him. "All right." The first thing Frankenstein tested was the blood's reaction to silver - it had been something he'd wanted to know: if the strength of a werewolf affected their reaction to silver, or if it was something else that affected it. It had been hard to measure against since he hadn't known how strong the traitors had been. With the strongest of all werewolves, that would at least give him information from the very top.  
  
He pulled out his silver dagger and dropped one drop of blood onto it. The viscosity usually changed instantly with the - there was no change. Frankenstein waited, tilting his blade, but not enough that the blood would move.   
  
Still nothing.   
  
Fascinating.   
  
"What're you doing?"  
  
Frankenstein looked across at Muzaka over the blade. "Your blood doesn't seem to react to silver." He cleaned the blood off and sheathed the dagger again.   
  
"Oh, that." Muzaka shrugged. "The stronger a werewolf gets, the less we react to silver."  
  
Hm. Frankenstein considered him for a few seconds. Just how strong was Muzaka in comparison to other werewolves? He hadn't seen any other werewolf with this little a reaction. "Is there a lot of you who are that strong?"   
  
Muzaka didn't say anything for a few seconds. "Mmm, no. Think it's just me who doesn't react." Damn. Muzaka's gaze drifted to the side. "I think Dorant might get there soon."  
  
Frankenstein perked up. "Dorant?"   
  
Muzaka grinned. "Yeah! He's a strong one - he's on the way to surpassin' me in a couple centuries."   
  
To think in terms of centuries rather than singular years, or even decades... "Interesting," Frankenstein said. "Would you be able to introduce me?" If he could meet more strong werewolves, that would help his research.   
  
"Sure!"  
  
"Thank you." Now, to continue testing Muzaka's blood.   


* * *

  
Frankenstein looked around, hand on his bag of his supplies. Muzaka had said to go to the river where they normally washed up, where the boulder had been split in three, when the sun was at its highest. This seemed to be the right spot.   
  
Frankenstein studied the boulder. It must have rolled down from one of the nearby mountains, but...the fact there were claw marks along its surface that could have easily fit his own hand was suspect. He knew werewolf claws could tear through metal easily - what was rock in comparison?   
  
He looked up at a now familiar sound of the tree branches being disturbed.   
  
There was a werewolf standing behind him, with short blond hair. His expression was blank as he studied Frankenstein. "You're the human that everyone's talking about."  
  
What exactly had Muzaka had told him aside from coming here? "Yes," Frankenstein said, smiling. "You're Dorant? Muzaka told me about you."   
  
Dorant didn't say anything for a few seconds. "That...is surprising."   
  
"Oh?" Hm, Dorant seemed to be the least talkative werewolf Frankenstein had so far met.   
  
Dorant sighed, looking away. "It doesn't matter. What is it you wished to speak to me about?"  
  
So Muzaka didn't tell Dorant much of the reason for their meeting. "Muzaka mentioned you're a strong were...wolf...?" As he said the words, he noticed the crease between Dorant's brows deepen. "Have I said something I shouldn't?" Was it the wording? ...Ah, was it because he'd referred to Muzaka without his title?  
  
Dorant crossed his arms before he looked around their surroundings. "Lord Muzaka is the one who suggested that I hide my strength from the others."  
  
That would explain the clandestine meeting. Now why would Muzaka tell Dorant that, especially from what Frankenstein had gleaned of werewolf culture, strength was celebrated and something to always strive to improve. "Then I won't tell anyone else of this."   
  
Dorant's focus snapped back to him.   
  
Frankenstein sighed. "I've had my own experiences of people talking of my business." Of sorts. "It's due to that chatter that I'm here. This information was told in my confidence-" Even though he hadn't been aware of it at the time. "-and there it will stay."  
  
He would have liked to ask for Dorant's blood, but maybe now wasn't the time for it. "Well, thank you for taking the time to talk with me." He could look into other things in the meantime.   
  
"...That was all you wanted to talk about?"   
  
"Not quite," Frankenstein said with a soft chuckle, "but I think the conversation has ended for today. If you'd like to chat about anything, just come find me-" Since it seemed like everyone else could find him easily enough. "-or tell Muzaka. I'm sure he can arrange something again."   
  
Dorant was silent before he turned away. "All right." He disappeared with a hiss of leaves.   


* * *

  
Garda seemed frozen, and she hadn't moved to take off her cloak as she stared at Frankenstein.   
  
"Is there something wrong?" It couldn't be because he'd had a conversation with Dorant? But other than that, he had done nothing else different from usual, so that had to be the only thing she was reacting to?   
  
"You smell like Lord Muzaka."  
  
Wha- "I smell like - as in...?" His spar with Muzaka had been days ago. Did smell linger that long? No-one else had mentioned the smell after his spars with Muzaka, when the scent should have assumedly been the strongest.   
  
"Your scent has changed to be a little like Lord Muzaka's," she said, frowning.   
  
Oh, it had? "He gave me his blood to study." His scent changed to Muzaka's after he introduced his blood to his body, hm. The werewolves had known he smelled 'like' a werewolf when they first met, but hadn't recognised the werewolves he'd taken blood from, so did that mean Muzaka's scent would eventually fade as well?   
  
"...Hm."  
  
Frankenstein raised his eyebrows. "Am I missing some kind of ceremony or meaning behind that?" Muzaka hadn't seemed to treat the act as anything of note or something special.   
  
Garda shook her head. "No, but it's...surprising when someone's scent changes like that." She frowned. "Though I suppose your scent was already like that when we first met.   
  
He smiled. "Quite."   
  
It seemed like it was a good decision to not ask for Dorant's blood if it would be that obvious and Dorant wanted to stay hidden.   
  
Though... If he collected enough blood at once, would he end up smelling like some misbegotten son of many werewolves?   
  
It would be interesting to see the werewolves' reaction to that.   
  
Frankenstein pulled himself away from his thoughts as he saw Garda's cloak flutter in the air, getting ready for the upcoming spar.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains: Blood and gore.

"Yo," Muzaka said as he approached, arm raised in greeting. "How'd your chat with Dorant go?"   
  
Frankenstein arched an eyebrow at him. "He mentioned that you told him to hide his strength."  
  
Muzaka's smile faltered for a second. "...Ah, yeah." He sighed, shrugging. "Werewolves can get jealous of those who grow faster than their peers. It's better he keeps his head down for now."   
  
Oh, now didn't _that_ sound familiar. The longer Frankenstein stayed amongst werewolves and learned more about them, the more he saw how much they had in common with humans.   
  
"An' I told you because you wouldn't be jealous or care how fast he gets stronger," Muzaka continued. He paused. "Or you'd care, but that's 'cause you'd want to study his blood for it."   
  
Frankenstein huffed, feeling a smile tug at his lips. Muzaka already knew him quite well. "Well, I told him he could come chat with me if he ever feels the need."   
  
"You did?" Muzaka lunged excitedly into Frankenstein's space, grinning widely. "Dorant doesn't have many people he talks with, so it'll be great if he does talk with ya."  
  
Hm. Was it that important to werewolves?   
  
Muzaka flung his jacket off and Frankenstein replied in kind. He could think about it later.   
  
Now to see if his new plan would work.   
  
Frankenstein had enough time to take two steps away from where he hung his tunic before Muzaka rushed towards him. He had a small window where he could-   
  
Frankenstein transformed and grabbed Muzaka's hand, using his claws up keep Muzaka's hand in place. Quick. He had to do this quickly.   
  
With his free hand, he slashed over the back of Muzaka's forearm, severing the extensor digitorum ligaments.   
  
He let go of Muzaka's forearm and jumped away, releasing his transformation. That should stop Muzaka from using that hand for a while. Would that be enough?   
  
Muzaka had stayed where he was, and that made Frankenstein pause. Blood was pouring out of the slashes in a steady stream. Had he cut too far? He'd never inflicted any deep wounds in a spar before, though that had been because he'd never been able to.   
  
"Huh," Muzaka said, looking down at his arm. His hand was curled into a more claw shape than relaxed, and even when Muzaka moved his arm, it was only the wrist that moved, not his fingers. "No-one's tried that before." He looked up, grinned, and charged at him.   
  
Just how _high_ was Muzaka's pain tolerance? Did he even feel it?   
  
Frankenstein's plan had worked, but it hadn't been as effective as he'd hoped. If he could deal with Muzaka's other hand, that might put a stop to him. Or Muzaka might opt to headbutt him instead.   
  
There was only one way to find out.   


* * *

  
Frankenstein's back slammed into the ground but before he could scramble to his feet, Muzaka straddled his hips, pinning him. Muzaka leaned in with his working hand to press his claws to Frankenstein's neck. Muzaka's grin was as sharp as his claws as Frankenstein relaxed, thumping his head against the ground.   
  
Dammit. Even with only one working arm and not transformed, Muzaka had still won.   
  
"Heh, that was fun," Muzaka said as he got up.   
  
"Oh?" Frankenstein wheezed, continuing to lay there. "Is it really fun having an easy fight?"  
  
Muzaka's grin widened even more. "Who said fightin' you is easy? You fight so differently I hafta change how I fight - it's been a while since I've only used one arm." He glanced down at his arm, frowning. "Though it's normally started healing by now."   
  
...Ah, had he gone too far? "Unless you have a way to keep each part of the ligament together so your healing can knit them back, it won't." He hadn't considered how a werewolf would-  
  
"Oooh, gotcha." Muzaka dug into his arm, yanking the muscle out. He tossed the muscle to the side. "Thanks."  
  
Frankenstein stared at the casual display of his actions. Muzaka's healing and pain tolerance was absolutely monstrous.   
  
"Next time," Muzaka said, extending his working hand out to Frankenstein, "I'll make it harder for you to hit me."   
  
Frankenstein raised an eyebrow, grasping Muzaka's hand. "Does that mean you'll transform?" he asked as Muzaka pulled him to his feet.  
  
"Yep! Not fully, but you'll see my claws."   
  
Frankenstein smiled. _Finally_.   
  
Though, what else could he do to improve how he fought...?  


* * *

  
Garda didn't say anything when she appeared, looking Frankenstein over.   
  
She shook her head. "At least you smell the normal way of having another werewolf's scent on you."   
  
Frankenstein sighed. "There's not much chance of keeping secrets with werewolves, is there?" He thought he'd scrubbed down well after Muzaka's spar.  
  
Garda hesitated at that. "It's...possible."   
  
"I suppose." Otherwise he wouldn't be here in the first place.   


* * *

  
Frankenstein crouched down, peering at the edges of the leaves at the base of the tree. They were serrated. Were these the ones-  
  
"Oi, what're you doin'?"  
  
Frankenstein jerked up, seeing Muzaka marching up to him. That was different from how Muzaka normally appeared.   
  
"Trying to find something for dinner," he said.   
  
Muzaka's eyes went wide. "You don't eat _that_."   
  
Something he shouldn't eat. Good to know.   
  
"If you wanna know what you can eat around here, I can show you around," Muzaka said, shaking his head.   
  
Frankenstein perked up. "It would be appreciated." A guide who knew exactly what effects the plants had would be far better and faster than testing each leaf.   
  
"Right, that one'll give you an aching stomach for a while," Muzaka said.   
  
Frankenstein nodded, pulling out his journal. So werewolves could still be affected by fauna.   


* * *

  
"You really like takin' notes, huh," Muzaka said, leaning against a tree as Frankenstein balanced his journal on his knee.   
  
"As good as my memory is, it's not infallible," Frankenstein murmured, sketching the plant Muzaka had just shown him. "I would rather make mistakes as few times as possible." Getting ill meant less time to research while he recovered.   
  
Frankenstein dipped his pen in the ink pot again, taking a few more notes. Hmm. Dipping his pen was fine in the lab where everything was stable, but it was cumbersome out in the field; he had to carry multiple items as well as finding the right spot to balance the ink pot that was reachable while he wrote or drew. If he could make a pen that would hold the ink inside itself...  
  
"Frankenstein?"  
  
"Ah, yes, lost in my own thoughts." Something to work on later.   
  
He finished his sketch and left his journal open to let the ink dry as he put his pen and ink pot away.   
  
"Carry on," he said as he collected his journal.   


* * *

  
Muzaka reached into a bush, brushing a branch away so Frankenstein could see the purple berries better. "These can make you vomit and tired."  
  
Frankenstein was already reaching for his ink pot when he paused, studying the plant closer. "Aren't those grapes?"  
  
"Is that what you call them?"   
  
Frankenstein tugged one of the berries free from its vine, looking at the shape of the leaves. "Yes, I'm sure those are grapes," he said. He sliced the berry in half with a claw, inspecting the inside. Then he popped it in his mouth. It was as he expected.   
  
Then that meant... Frankenstein closed his eyes and sighed. Of course.   
  
"It would appear we forgot that there are differences between us."   
  
Muzaka was staring at him, wide-eyed. "You can eat those?"   
  
Frankenstein nodded, eating the other half. Which meant Muzaka's advice may not be as helpful as it could have been. But as different as they were, they were also similar, so he would keep those plants in mind.   
  
"I'd still like to know what other plants that should be avoided," Frankenstein said. It would be good to know what was around and it was nice walking around with Muzaka.   
  
Muzaka nodded, though Frankenstein noticed he kept a closer eye on him along their walk.   


* * *

  
Dorant stared out across the river. "Why would a human care about werewolf politics?"   
  
Frankenstein leaned back on the log, enjoying the warm sun. "It's exactly because I'm human that I'm curious," he said. "I'm not aware of what's considered, hmm, normal behaviour for werewolves." He was able to pick up a few pieces the longer he stayed amongst them, but he didn't have the full innate grasp that came with growing up with them.   
  
"And I'm not involved, so I have no stake in the matter." Frankenstein shrugged. "I won't be telling anyone anything that you tell me, so you are free to vent."   
  
Dorant stayed quiet, watching the other bank. "Perhaps."   
  
Though, would it have helped if he'd talked to a werewolf about the Union? Not really. He was sure the werewolves would have told him to fight Osbern for the theft, though that wouldn't have accomplished much. The damage had been done - his research would have still been sought over.   
  
But...to talk about it? To have some kind of catharsis? He hadn't talked talked to the others about his troubles...  
  
"And you?"  
  
"Mm?" Frankenstein glanced over. Had he missed Dorant's question while lost in his thoughts?  
  
"Would you 'vent' about your human politics to me as well?"  
  
A small smile grew on Frankenstein's lips and he let out a soft chuckle. Werewolves never failed to continue to surprise him.   
  
Dorant didn't say anything, watching him patiently.   
  
"Yes, an exchange, like in a fight," Frankenstein said with a nod.   
  
Very slowly, a small smile curled the corner of Dorant's lips.   


* * *

  
Frankenstein swept his wet hair away from his face. It was getting closer to the length it had been before he cut it.   
  
"Garda," he said as he pulled his tunic back on, "could you tell me what's insulting for a werewolf?"   
  
She cocked her head to the side, an amused expression on her face. "To avoid it, or to annoy others?"   
  
"The latter," he said.   
  
She blinked at that. "Has someone been bothering you?"   
  
He smiled. "No. It's to help in the spars."   
  
She looked at him, not saying anything for a few seconds. "How would insults help?"  
  
"There are more ways to win a fight than pure strength." Though he had yet to prove that. He was getting closer with each new technique he learned, however.   
  
Garda stared at him.   
  
Frankenstein sighed. _Werewolves_. "In a fight, a warrior must be clearheaded, yes?"  
  
"Of course!"  
  
"If you're able to insult someone to the point where they lose their composure," Frankenstein said, "they then lose the ability to plan or to predict what their opponent will do their next. It's one way to gain an advantage." And he needed to scrape in as many as he could against werewolves.   
  
"Hm." Garda didn't say anything else to that.   
  
"Also, I ask because human insults are either ineffective, or it excites you further," he admitted wryly. It was rather the opposite effect of what he wanted.   
  
Garda blinked, studying him. "You were trying to anger me earlier?"  
  
" _Yes_ ," Frankenstein said. It hadn't worked - therefore, he needed to talk with someone who would know exactly what would.   
  
Garda smiled, starting to walk towards the eating area. "All right."  
  
Frankenstein smiled back. "Thank you."  


* * *

  
Frankenstein hummed as he organised the plants he'd collected. He would need to make jars or pouches to keep some in, since Muzaka kept visiting. They were most potent if they were ingested, but they might affect Muzaka by their scents as well.   
  
"Why is your lab underground anyway."  
  
Speaking of which...   
  
"You should do this in the sunshine," Muzaka continued from Frankenstein's doorway, squinting at the candles. "With actual light."   
  
"I need to have a controlled environment to make sure I know what's being influenced and what is affecting another." He couldn't do that if the wind was blowing whatever was in the air into his vials.   
  
"Underground," Muzaka repeated flatly, crossing his arms as he leaned on the wall.   
  
"It needs to be hidden. If someone were to find my lab-" Well. Someone aside from Muzaka. "My research..." It had already happened once. He didn't want it to happen again.   
  
Muzaka snorted, walking in completely. "This is the safest place there is. No-one's gonna be coming to the werewolf territory." He frowned at the walls. "Can I at least bust a window or two in here? Ya need fresh air sometimes! I wouldn't need to drag you out so much if you had a window."  
  
Frankenstein stared at him. That was why Muzaka visited? To check on him?   
  
Muzaka looked at him and then sighed. "Fine, no windows. But I'm takin' you outside - you've clearly been stuck inside for too long again."   
  
He guided Frankenstein out with a hand on his shoulder, Frankenstein letting him, turning the new information in his head.


	11. Chapter 11

"What is it like," Dorant said, "living away from your people?" Dorant had opted to sit on the log this time - maybe it was a sign he was relaxing around Frankenstein. It was hard to read the werewolf.  
  
"Hm." Frankenstein considered the question as he played with a blade of grass. "I don't find it so bad, but I didn't interact with other people that much." He'd kept mostly to himself except from when he was sought out for his advice. There wasn't a whole lot of difference between how he lived before and how he currently lived. And he kept himself busy with his research.  
  
"But...I think it would have been a different story if I'd been used to the werewolf level of interaction before being cut off," Frankenstein admitted. He was getting used to the chatter at the campfires and to lose that kind of connection after having it for your entire life...  
  
Dorant was sweeping his foot over the ground over and over, and that was the most Frankenstein had seen him move during their conversations.  
  
"If there was something you could do to be accepted again by them, would you?"  
  
Frankenstein paused. Another interesting question from him. It wasn't something he would expect from a werewolf - he was sure they would confidently walk their chosen path. But social ostracisation was considered a punishment for a reason. For humans, at least.  
  
And he'd met enough werewolves now to know they weren't all alike.  
  
Now, to actually consider the question. He'd never thought over what he would do if he could. Because it was never a possibility. "No," Frankenstein said, folding the blade of grass into many pieces. "If I were to do or give something that would erase the rumours spread around about me, it wouldn't erase the damage the rumours have already done."  
  
He exhaled, letting go of the blade of grass and watched the wind take it. "My reacceptance isn't the issue here - it's that the rumours were spread in the first place to assassinate my character and to redirect from their own misdeeds. _That_ was what is unforgivable."  
  
Frankenstein stared across the river, turning over what he'd just said. He'd never considered going back, but he'd thought it was because his research wasn't ready. Putting it into words, saying it out loud...  
  
That really what it was, wasn't it? Why he'd ran, why he'd stayed away. There was no recovering from that.  
  
"You didn't do it?"  
  
...Oh, he'd never clarified if the rumours were actually true, had he? "No," Frankenstein said, shaking his head. "The work I'd created to help humans was stolen and used without my knowledge."  
  
"Hm." Dorant stared at the river, his foot still making circles in the bank.  
  
It was interesting watching Dorant think, and their conversations were never something Frankenstein could predict.  
  
"If their deaths happened because of your work," Dorant said, "then it would have happened when you shared it anyway?"  
  
Frankenstein nodded. "That's why I tested it on myself first, to make sure it would be safe for others." It had worked for him, but clearly not for others. Even though he hadn't done it, their blood were on his hands. If his work hadn't been stolen, if Osbern had approached him... Well. He would have refused to work with Osbern in the first place.  
  
Because he'd known his work wasn't ready yet.  
  
It didn't shift the guilt that stirred in his stomach.  


* * *

  
Muzaka grinned at Frankenstein, rolling his shoulders. "Yer gonna hafta transform first."  
  
Frankenstein eyed him, and then complied.  
  
Muzaka transformed, silver fur running up his hands and stopping at his wrists.  
  
It wasn't a full transformation but even then... Even with that small change, Frankenstein could feel the difference in the air, everything a little heavier.  
  
Muzaka really was _monstrously_ strong.  
  
Muzaka dashed towards him, and Frankenstein swore, leaping out of the way. Muzaka crossed the distance in half the time, and dammit, that was why Muzaka had warned him to transform first.  
  
He would just have to do the best that he could in the time he had.  


* * *

  
Frankenstein winced when he stretched a little too far as he added the chopped onions and other ingredients to the pot. The spar with Muzaka had ended as quickly as he expected it to, but he'd been able to see a partial transformation in action. It was far different from his own, but if he could reach a full transformation...  
  
"You're really eating that?" Muzaka eyed Frankenstein's pot, leaning away from it.  
  
Frankenstein didn't stop his smile. The werewolf Lord, afraid of vegetables. It made sense, but the picture was still amusing.  
  
"It adds a nice flavouring to my meal in small amounts," Frankenstein said, checking on the fish roasting by the other fire. It was far enough away that Muzaka shouldn't be affected.  
  
It didn't take long for everything to be ready, but as Frankenstein began eating, he noticed Muzaka didn't. He continued, but after a few bites, Muzaka still hadn't started, watching him instead.  
  
"Your food is getting cold," Frankenstein reminded him, an eyebrow raised.  
  
"Ah, yeah." Muzaka ate a bite, but kept watching him, his hands resting at his side once he'd had that one bite.  
  
Frankenstein sighed. "I'm not going to suddenly expire in front of you." Maybe it was a mistake to offer Muzaka to have dinner with him. He'd wanted to use more of the ingredients he'd collected and hadn't been in the mood for extended socialisation for the night.  
  
"Are you _sure_?" Muzaka said, studying him.  
  
"Yes," Frankenstein said, eating more of his meal. "I'm not experiencing any of the effects you'd described to me."  
  
Muzaka squinted at him for a few more seconds before he started to focus on his own food.  


* * *

  
"You're staying longer than I expected," Frankenstein said, putting his plates away.  
  
"Well, yeah," Muzaka said, shrugging. "Just want to make sure you're all right."  
  
Frankenstein huffed, turning back to him. Muzaka had kept an eye on him throughout the entire meal. "How long is it before the poison takes effect?"  
  
"A while."  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "Usually by now?" It had been several hours since he'd first started eating.  
  
Muzaka hesitated. "Yeah."  
  
"Then I'll be fine."  
  
"But you're human - they could affect ya differently," Muzaka said, studying him again.  
  
"Or not at all."  
  
Muzaka still didn't seem convinced.  
  
Frankenstein smiled. "I appreciate your concern-" And was starting to get used to it. "-but if something should occur, I am more than capable of taking care of myself. Now shoo."  
  
Muzaka finally relaxed, smiling back. "Yeah, you are."  


* * *

  
"I can see how insults work now," Garda said, her cloak slung over her shoulder as she and Frankenstein walked towards the river to wash up. "It's harder to think well while I'm angry."  
  
Frankenstein smiled as he walked alongside her. It was good she was seeing how useful it was. He still hadn't won a spar yet, but he was able to land a few more hits in comparison to usual.  
  
"Do they work with Lord Muzaka?"  
  
"Unfortunately, no," Frankenstein said with a sigh. "But that is more because he doesn't give me enough time to say the words," he said wryly. He needed to figure out something else that could eke out any advantage he could make.  
  
Frankenstein glanced over at Garda's chuckle. "Mm?" Had he said something amusing?  
  
"Your persistence is admirable."  
  
He arched a brow, though still sharing her smile. "I would have thought a persistence in a fight against a stronger opponent was something you would encourage."  
  
She nodded. "Exactly. You're acting quite like a warrior."  
  
Oh. Hm. That had to be quite the compliment.  


* * *

  
Frankenstein noted his candles flickering, but that didn't matter. He was so close-  
  
Warm scarred hands slid in from behind him, lifting his hand away from the journal. Gently, the hand moved his pen away from his journal. Learned from last time, because his notes had ended with ink blots all over-  
  
"Ggk!" No! Frankenstein watched his desk move further from Muzaka's shoulder. "I have to finish-"  
  
"I don't know much about humans," Muzaka said, "but I'm pretty sure yer s'posed to eat and sleep every day. I haven't heard anything about you in weeks!"  
  
He hadn't been inside for weeks; he hadn't been working for that long. "I've enhanced myself so I don't need it as much." His work... It was already out of sight, his door blocking off his view.  
  
"Which means you still eventually need it, riiight?"  
  
...Dammit.  


* * *

  
Frankenstein raised an eyebrow at the arm around his shoulder, eyeing Muzaka from the corner of his eye. "I can sit upright by myself."  
  
"But if I don't keep an arm around ya, you might just sneak back to yer lab while I'm not lookin'."  
  
He wasn't _that_ desperate. ...Though if he had finished his note... Frankenstein sighed at the cool wind, contrasted with the warm sun coming through the canopy. "And at what point would you stop watching me?" Because as far as he could tell, Muzaka never stopped.  
  
Muzaka merely grinned. "Dunno, but you're sneaky. You could do it."  
  
Even he hadn't figured out how to hide himself from people's sight yet, and even if Frankenstein could, Muzaka would track him down somehow.  
  
Frankenstein nibbled the food Muzaka had brought and then paused. ...Well, it seemed his stomach wasn't sure what to do with food inside it, and when _was_ the last time he'd eaten? He remembered snacking on a few things around the lab, but how long ago had that been?  
  
"It would appear I _did_ need to be dragged out into the sunlight," he admitted.  
  
Muzaka chuckled, his arm tightening briefly. "You can look after yourself, but I think you need protected from yourself sometimes too, heh."  
  
"Hm." That...was true. Frankenstein continued taking small bites of the food, listening to the birdsong around them.  


* * *

  
"What insults work for angering you?" Garda asked as she pulled Frankenstein to his feet.  
  
Yes, it _was_ unfair to ask for werewolf insults without offering his own.  
  
"For me personally," Frankenstein said with a grunt, shaking out his hands, "it would be to insult my research."  
  
Garda frowned at him in confusion.  
  
"Insulting my research is to insult my mind," Frankenstein clarified. That should make it easier for her to understand.  
  
"Aaah," she said, nodding.  
  
"But for something more tangible that would anger me..." Because he doubted Garda would know enough about his work to critique his methods. He rubbed his shoulder as he thought it over. "It would be to insult and look down on humanity." There had been a few comments werewolves had made that he'd shut down, but it had annoyed him nevertheless. It would be good for him to practice holding onto his anger in a fight.  
  
"For other humans, hm..." He picked up his tunic. "Their intellect or calling their lineage into question is usually enough."  
  
When he turned around, Garda was staring blankly at him. "Human insults are strange."  
  
Frankenstein chuckled at that as they started walking towards the river. "As are werewolves'."  
  
She snorted, smiling. "Fine."


	12. Chapter 12

Frankenstein scribbled a note before he paused mid-sentence. Wait, if he could-  
  
He started digging around his desk. "Ah, now where did I put the-"  
  
"Third drawer on the left," Muzaka's sleepy voice drifted over from the corner of his room. He had taken residence on Frankenstein's bed and Frankenstein had forgotten he was there as he continued his research.  
  
The object he was seeking was where Muzaka said it would be. "Thank you," Frankenstein said, but before he put it to use, Frankenstein paused. He looked over his shoulder at Muzaka. "How did you know what I was talking about, and where it would be?"  
  
Muzaka kept his eyes closed, his hands clasped behind his head. "You talk about it a lot and I can hear where you put it. Ya always start with that tone when you want it."  
  
Frankenstein considered him, turning Muzaka's words in his head. But that meant... "You're listening to me?" And to that degree?  
  
"Yeah? You thought I was just sleepin'?"  
  
"...Well, yes." That had seemed to be the main reason he came when he wasn't dragging Frankenstein out.  
  
Muzaka snorted. "If I just wanted to do that, I could find a tree or anywhere not here to do that. Somewhere with sunlight and a fresh breeze." In the candlelight, Frankenstein saw his smirk.  
  
Oh. No-one had wanted to talk to or listen to him in the Union - when they sought him out, it was usually to solve their problems.  
  
"Can't understand much about what yer sayin'," Muzaka said as he stretched, "but I know what most of you're usin' is called now."  
  
Huh. "...Thank you," Frankenstein said softly.  
  
Muzaka opened one eye to look at him. "What for?"  
  
"For keeping me company, I suppose," Frankenstein said, turning back to his work. He had gotten used to lonely nights, but the presence of another person was appreciated.  
  
"Hn."  


* * *

  
Frankenstein frowned. "But no, that doesn't make sense, because that would mean - Oh, of course!" His eyes widened and he dived back to his journal, scribbling. Yes, that was a much better idea. "Thank you!"  
  
"Uuh, what was _that_?"  
  
Frankenstein looked over his shoulder to see Muzaka staring at him in confusion. "I needed a, hm, sounding board for my ideas. You helped immensely."  
  
Muzaka furrowed his brows. "But I didn't say anythin'."  
  
"But if you weren't here, I wouldn't have come to the right conclusion," Frankenstein countered. "Thank you for that."  
  
"Uh. All right?"  
  
Now to follow that thread of thought...  
  


* * *

  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Mm?" Frankenstein rubbed his thumb over the rock before throwing it. "Skipping stones." He wanted to do something else with his hands. The river wasn't the best place for it, but he could still skip the stone at least once.  
  
Garda watched the stone skim the river once before it sank. "I know you can throw it further than that."  
  
Frankenstein smiled, picking another stone. It was true: if he wanted to, he could easily throw it to the opposite bank. "That's not the point. I want to skip stones across the surface." He threw the new stone, watching it skip twice. Better.  
  
Garda frowned. "Are you wrapping the stone with your aura when you do it? I couldn't sense anything."  
  
"Mm? No, no use of my aura."  
  
He watched her as she picked the first stone she reached for and flung it in a arc. The stone sank instantly.  
  
"It's not just a strength exercise," Frankenstein said, searching for another stone. "You need to find the right stone first," he said as he picked one up, and found a second. "It needs to be flat so that it can generate enough lift to-"  
  
He stopped, seeing Garda's blank face.  
  
He cleared his throat. Right. Not everyone would care for the exact details. "A flat stone, a low angle, and fast." He demonstrated with the stone.  
  
Garda tracked the stone as it bounced over the water.  
  
"No aura needed," he said, smiling as he tossed the second stone to Garda.  
  
Garda caught the stone without looking but she glanced down to study it.  
  
She threw it in the same way Frankenstein had. The stone sank. She narrowed her eyes and started searching for another stone.  
  
It was interesting to see her work, but it was nice to see the roles reversed.  


* * *

  
"Frankenstein." Garda threw one more stone and then straightened her cloak.  
  
"Yes?" She had managed to skip a stone once a few times, which pleased him. She picked up things fast - he'd only needed to instruct her once and she was able to correct herself and improve after that.  
  
"I...," she said, walking over. "I hadn't gotten around to tell you that I'm glad you spoke out against Lord Muzaka when you first arrived."  
  
He raised his eyebrows. "Oh?" She had been the one chiding him back then, though...that was more for his actions, than his words.  
  
"Lord Muzaka is our Lord, so his decision is final," she said. "We can't stop him when he decides to travel again. It was a surprise he listened to a human, but...I'm glad." She exhaled. "It's nice having Lord Muzaka here to deal with things, rather than waiting for his next return."  
  
" _Is_ Muzaka's decision final?" Frankenstein asked softly. He'd seen how the other werewolves acted around Muzaka. If he could get her to question her assumptions...  
  
"Of course it is!"  
  
"And what happens when someone questions his order, or gives him something new to think about?"  
  
"They would be-" She stopped, her mouth open. A frown slowly formed as she stayed silent.  
  
Good, she was thinking over what she'd seen, not what she'd been told.  
  
"He listens."  
  
"Yes," Frankenstein said, smiling.  
  
"Oh." Garda looked dazed.  
  
"Let's go get something to eat," Frankenstein said as he guided her towards the eating area. He was sure she had a lot to think about in the meantime.  
  


* * *

  
"Don't you ever sleep?" Frankenstein demanded as Muzaka tugged him outside. It was a cloudless night, the stars twinkling overhead. He thought he would have been safe from getting dragged outside during the night.  
  
"Yeah, but _you_ don't either-"  
  
...That was true.  
  
"-and if we go up the mountain to the south, we'd get a great view of the stars from there."  
  
Frankenstein paused, letting Muzaka guide him further into the forest. The stars?  
  
He hadn't studied the stars since his arrival to the werewolf territory, too focused on the werewolves.  
  
"Lead the way."  
  
Muzaka grinned at him. "Wasn't I already?"  
  
Frankenstein smiled, following him.  


* * *

  
Frankenstein craned his head skyward, leaning back on one hand, his breath puffing as he rested an arm around a knee. "Interesting."  
  
"What is?" Muzaka was sitting next to him, arm still raised as he pointed to the sky.  
  
"I would have thought you would have more warrior or hunter constellations." It was more of their people of legend and only a handful of fighters.  
  
Muzaka laughed at that. "Naw, we're not _always_ about fighting." He grinned.  
  
"I find that surprising," Frankenstein said, returning his smile. "It seems like that is what everyone is focused on."  
  
"Heh." Muzaka dropped his hand, scanning the skies again. "That's 'cause you hang out with warriors all the time - we chose the path to fight and strengthen ourselves." He breathed out, a large cloud escaping his mouth. "Not everyone does, or can."  
  
Yes, that would skew his perception.  
  
Frankenstein shivered, another cloud escaping his mouth.  
  
"You're cold?"  
  
"Yes, I wasn't able to grab my cloak before you pulled me out." He hadn't thought the nights were that cold to need it either, since he stayed inside.  
  
"Oh, heh."  
  
Frankenstein started when something warm was dropped on his shoulders. When he turned his head to look at Muzaka, he almost ate a mouthful of fur.  
  
Muzaka had given him his jacket.  
  
"Don't you need it?" Frankenstein said, frowning at Muzaka's skin, which showed no sign of goosebumps.  
  
"Nah," Muzaka said, smiling.  
  
That made sense with how little layers the warriors wore.  
  
After a few seconds, Frankenstein slipped the jacket on. "Thank you."  


* * *

  
Frankenstein hummed, making Dorant look towards him. ...Huh, had Dorant gotten used to that being a signal that he wanted his attention.  
  
"I'm curious," Frankenstein said. "You don't give out an aura as strong as other warriors." He was getting better at sensing when he was being approached, but Dorant continued to surprise him, no matter how much he concentrated.  
  
"I dampen it, to hide my strength."  
  
Ah, that answered his question. "Would you be able to teach me how to do it?"  
  
Dorant's eyebrows raised slightly.  
  
"It annoys me that everyone knows where I am before I see them." He _was_ trying to hide after all, yet the warriors knew exactly where he was when they wanted a spar. He'd been lucky only Muzaka had found his lab so far.  
  
A small smile curled Dorant's lips. "You do give off a very distinctive aura. All right."  
  
Frankenstein smiled back.  


* * *

  
"Time ta go outside!"  
  
With the warning, Frankenstein placed his pen down and gathered up his bag with practised ease. Inside it was his journal of sketches, and his design for a pen that could hold ink inside it. He also had a dry pen and ink pot if his test didn't work.  
  
He was ready in seconds, and Muzaka slung an arm around his shoulder as they went outside.  
  
It didn't take them long to reach a spot to sit, and when they did, Frankenstein was sitting as much against Muzaka as he was the tree.  
  
Muzaka peered at his sketches. "The whole point of takin' you outside was so you have a break from squintin' at everythin'."  
  
"I don't squint," Frankenstein said distractedly, still focused on drawing. The pen was working so far.  
  
"Your eyes are narrowed - yer squintin'."  
  
Frankenstein paused, checking what his expression was. ...So he was.  
  
He set the journal to the side. "All right," he said, putting the pen away. He had tested it and that was what he had needed. "No staring at paper for the time being."  
  
Muzaka grinned at him.  


* * *

  
Frankenstein stretched, rubbing the back of his neck as he collected his things. The non-dip pen had been a success, but he would need to see if the ink had dried on the inside after being left for a few hours as well.  
  
"Muzaka," he said, getting to his feet, "I'll be leaving for the mainland to gather some new supplies." There was only so much he could make or find himself here and there were a few things that werewolves didn't make that he needed as well.  
  
Muzaka perked up. "I can come!"  
  
What? "No." Though...how long had it been since Muzaka had left the islands? He must be starting to get itchy feet if he was used to travelling around. "I'll see if I can find you things of interest when I return," he promised. Multiple things, considering how he couldn't be sure if it might have a negative effect on Muzaka.  
  
...Hm, maybe it shouldn't be food. Something else? Something durable. There wasn't anything human made that could withstand werewolf claws or their full strength, but there was surely something he could find.  
  
Muzaka blinked, his eyebrows raised. "You will?"  
  
"Mm, is there anything in particular you'd like?"  
  
Muzaka shook his head, smiling. "Surprise me."  
  


* * *

  
Being back amongst humans was...strange. Frankenstein kept the cloak hood around his shoulders as he walked through the port. The rumours about him should have died by now, and with it being a port, strangers were a common sight as new ships docked daily.  
  
After all the time he'd spent with the werewolves, he could feel the stark difference between humans and werewolves in the air. Human auras were more muted in comparison, like water brushing against his skin; werewolf auras were more brash, demanding his attention and space like fire. Was this what he felt like to the werewolves? A mix of in between?  
  
Frankenstein browsed the market, just letting his eyes drift as his senses were filled. He could have collected some of these supplies himself, to be sure of their freshness, but trying to find them would take time when he didn't know the area that well.  
  
He turned his head, smelling the sweetness of cakes and baked goods. ...It _had_ been a while since he'd had something like that. Maybe he should collect some flour as well.  
  
He followed his nose to the sweet selection. Ah, there was jam?  
  
Frankenstein heard the heavy tread of guards pass his back but aside from noting their presence, ignored them as he bartered with the woman behind the stall. Acting wary of the guards would only bring more attention to him.  
  
His bag heavier and purse lighter, Frankenstein continued his perusal of the market. Maybe he could find some books. Or even scrolls. He wasn't picky - it would be nice to read _anything_ that wasn't his own handwriting, even if it was outdated. If it was, then he could spend a slow afternoon picking at all the flaws.  
  
Or he could find something for Muzaka. Food wouldn't be the best choice when he didn't know what it was made with, and weapons and armour weren't something that Muzaka would ever need. Hmm, what would Muzaka like...  
  
As he walked, Frankenstein heard the guards' tread follow him.  
  
The port was busy, so they would be making patrols. He couldn't have been recognised.  
  
But it was best if he cut his excursion short. Just in case. He could travel to the next town over to buy everything else he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Act 2, finally done. XD


	13. Chapter 13

Frankenstein was definitely being followed out of the port.   
  
Perhaps he was being paranoid. There could be another reason why they were following him.   
  
Such as...?   
  
Frankenstein sighed, checking his bag. No, it was still there so they couldn't be trying to return it. And if they were, they would have called him over by now. Everything else was where it should be as well.   
  
So it couldn't be that.   
  
_Could_ it be the rumours? Even by the time he left for the werewolf territory, the rumours had twisted so much that he was an eight foot tall wolf with golden fur and claws as long as a forearm. But if the Union had renewed the rumours to guide it back to his true appearance...   
  
Frankenstein ran a hand through his hair. Would a hairtie work now, or was it too late? It would be suspicious of him to cut his hair in the street, and they were already suspicious of him.   
  
Hm. Frankenstein slowed his steps. This would continue to gnaw at him until he found out the reason. He needed to know if it was something he could do to avoid next time, or if he should just not return to this place altogether in the future.   
  
The guards were human, so if it _was_ something nefarious, he could easily get away.   
  
He continued wandering through the port until he found the quieter, more residential area, their steps continuing to trail after him.   
  
He paused when he turned down one area and two guards were there waiting for him.   
  
The other two that had been following him arrived at his back, closing him in.   
  
"Can I help you?" Frankenstein asked, seeing their hands duck towards their swords. Well, that told him enough.   
  
"Are you Frankenstein?" one of the guards in front of him asked. His partner's eyes kept flicking towards Frankenstein's neck.   
  
...Damn, he'd forgotten he still had that scar. Even if he'd changed his appearance, he would have forgotten to hide that.   
  
"I'm sorry," Frankenstein said, putting on his most placating smile. "I don't know anyone by that name."   
  
"Blond, blue eyes, distinctive claw marks across the neck," the first guard drawled. "You _look_ like the man we were told to keep an eye out for."   
  
Something was off about that. Guards wouldn't still be actively searching for a rumour for that long. Especially on a different continent. Though with the Union...   
  
"And you're here to arrest me?" It was only pleasantries at this point. Useless words with the outcome clear, because they were drawing their weapons.   
  
"You're too dangerous to let you continue to roam the streets," the guard said as they advanced, step by step. "We'll take the research you've stolen and return it to its rightful owners."   
  
He _was_ the rightful owner!   
  
That was not the orders of someone acting on baseless rumours. They had been warned of his arrival.   
  
"I see," Frankenstein said. "Thank you for your time." He ran, jumping over their heads.   
  
He didn't stop running until he was out of the port and he was sure he hadn't been followed. He paced back and forth in the forest he had found himself in.   
  
They had known he was coming. They had known he would be at the port. How?   
  
The only person who knew where he was going was...   
  
Muzaka.   
  
Muzaka wouldn't, would he...?  
  
Frankenstein frowned and then snorted, shaking his head.   
  
Muzaka had no reason to kill him through subterfuge: Muzaka was strong enough to kill him outright in a spar, and no-one would question it.   
  
Which meant the werewolf problem of those who wanted to rule over humanity hadn't been fully dug out. Only better hidden.   
  
It didn't explain why he wasn't attacked in the werewolf territory however. The warriors knew what island he stayed on and sought him out. Why was it set up so he was attacked by humans elsewhere? Wouldn't it be easier for them to attack him in their own lands?   
  
Maybe it wasn't someone who wanted him dead, but had only been spying on him for someone who did.   
  
Which meant the Union.   
  
He sighed. If the guards had been able to kill him, they wouldn't have found anything of use, because he wasn't carrying any of his research journals with him. Only the one he sketched the local fauna with. It was all in the werewolf territory.   
  
That -   
  
Frankenstein's insides froze and he started running again.   
  
All his research was in the werewolf territory, that the spy had access to.   
  
He could only hope he hadn't been too late to notice his work being stolen again.   
  


* * *

  
Frankenstein's lab was untouched when he returned.   
  
He wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but he'd thought the same before and had been wrong.   
  
Everything seemed to be in order when he entered, and when he checked his journals, they were in the same place.   
  
Good.   
  
That was good.   
  
He sagged against the wall, relief flooding through him. His work wasn't being used to hurt people. But...   
  
He stared at the journals lining his wall. His research wasn't safe. He had to burn it.   
  
He might have been wrong - maybe someone had already entered his lab and had successfully returned his journals to the right place.   
  
He had to be sure.   
  
If it _had_ happened, he would just have to hope his encryption was enough to hide what he'd found.   
  
Frankenstein gathered up his journals and went outside.   


* * *

  
Hm. He'd written a lot in the past couple of months, hadn't he? The smell was different from burning logs - the ink added its own iron tinge, and with it, brought forth memories of the last time he'd done this.   
  
"Yo, you're back!"   
  
Frankenstein didn't look up, his eyes focused on the fire, making sure everything was burning. The fire was hot against his skin. Maybe he should add more wood, just in case. To make sure it all burned.   
  
"You coulda just gone to the campfires to..." Muzaka stopped. "What're you burning?"   
  
"My research," Frankenstein replied flatly, adding another journal to the fire. Breathe in and out. Keep his emotions under lock and key. He'd done this before. He would do this again.   
  
Muzaka snatched the journal before it hit the fire and dragged Frankenstein away by the arm. "What's going on?"   
  
"Tell me," Frankenstein said through gritted teeth, through grief that was trying to burst out, the anger, "did you tell anyone where I was going?" He reached for his journal, but Muzaka kept it away.   
  
"Yeah? Lots of people were wonderin' where you'd disappeared to."   
  
"Dammit." Frankenstein sagged, Muzaka supporting his weight. He couldn't trace the thread back - that information could have spread to anyone that way.   
  
But it hadn't been Muzaka. Good.   
  
Muzaka eased him down until they were both sitting. "What happened?   
  
Frankenstein didn't say anything, staring at the flames.   
  
"Frankenstein," Muzaka said softly, "what happened...?"  
  
He sighed, wrapping his arms around his knees, watching the paper burn. "While I was away, I was attacked by people who knew who I was and that I would be in the area. They were warned I would be there." He exhaled. "They had been told to collect my research from my corpse. Since you were the only one I informed where I was going..."  
  
Muzaka didn't say anything for a few seconds. "You thought _I_ betrayed you?"   
  
Frankenstein shook his head. "If you wanted me dead, it would have easily happened during one of our spars. But it does tell me that there is someone -or multiple people- here who would either like me dead, or is working with someone who would." He paused, mulling it over. "Possibly both." Working together for a common goal.   
  
Frankenstein glanced over as he felt Muzaka's aura press down for a second. Fur rippled over Muzaka's skin before it settled down again.   
  
"Though, one thing I don't understand is," Frankenstein continued, "if they were acting with ones who wanted me dead, then why not attack me here? Surely it would be far easier and faster than waiting for me to leave." He hadn't even thought he _would_ leave the territory, but with werewolf lifespans, they could afford to wait.   
  
"Or they were worried about my retribution if I found out you'd been attacked for that reason," Muzaka said, his voice low, rumbling on the verge of a growl.   
  
Frankenstein raised an eyebrow. "Your retribution?"  
  
"Yeah. You're here because I allow it. Trying to get rid of you is undermining what I say."  
  
"Huh. 'Because I allow it'?" Frankenstein repeated. He snorted. "If you threw me out, I'd come back if your werewolves kept attacking humans."  
  
Muzaka's dark expression softened as he smiled at Frankenstein. "An' it'd be because of that stubbornness and willingness to fight us, I'd let you stay."  
  
Frankenstein still couldn't always follow how Muzaka thought, but he was starting to get a better grasp of how werewolves thought.   
  
"And this?" Muzaka said, waving the journal he'd saved.   
  
"They want my research," Frankenstein said. "I can't let them have it. Too many people have already been hurt by it when my research wasn't ready to be used. If there are werewolves here who are working with those who want my research... I can't risk that happening again."   
  
"...Ah." Muzaka held the journal out to Frankenstein.   
  
"Thank you." Frankenstein took it and tossed it into the fire.   


* * *

  
Frankenstein poked at the remains of the embers and all that revealed itself was more ash. None of the pale paper remained. Good.   
  
It was clear there was only one group of people who would be this persistent about getting his research was the Union. But did they only want his death because he'd ran away from them?   
  
It would make more sense if they took him back alive to continue working for them. But...he'd already proven that he had no interest in working with them by running in the first place and hiding for all this time.   
  
He'd ran once, and would do it again.   
  
But had they made no progress in the time since he'd left? His work had been updated with new information during his stay with the werewolves, but he still had success with his incomplete work.   
  
Though... Maybe that was due to the werewolf he had taken the blood from. He wouldn't know. Not unless he talked with Osbern and _that_ wouldn't happen.   
  
He sighed, pouring water over the smouldering embers. He may not be able to find the werewolf or werewolves through who Muzaka had talked to, but if he could find who the werewolves were talking to...   
  
Well. That was as almost an impossible task, but only slightly less.   
  
In some ways it would also be more dangerous - and yet, he'd stayed amongst werewolves for months now, which the Union had forbade any of its people from doing.   
  
He sighed. He at least had somewhere to _start_ with the Union. As big as they were, the Union hadn't had many people working on researching werewolves - they'd focused more on nobles.   
  
Right. That was it, then.   
  
Frankenstein glanced at his door. He would have liked to rest after all the travelling he had already done, but he couldn't waste time. And now that he was aware there were werewolves around who had no problems with his death... It would be too easy to trap and catch him within his lab.   
  
Frankenstein dusted off his hands, turning to Muzaka. "I'll be returning to the human lands," Frankenstein told him, running through if there was anything he would need. He'd already picked up everything for his previous trip, and burned everything else that had needed to be. "I may not be able to find out who is in contact with humans here, but I might be able to if I go back."  
  
"Hnn," Muzaka said, a wry smile on his face. "Think I get how people felt when I came back just to leave again."   
  
"Sorry," Frankenstein said, "but I need to find this out." He couldn't leave it as it was. The attacks would continue every time he stepped off the werewolf islands. "I'll try to return as quickly as possible."   
  
Muzaka's smile warmed. "Yeah, I know you will."


	14. Chapter 14

It was strange walking through the familiar streets he'd spent years living. It had been months and his feet still knew the way to the Union building.   
  
He would have gone there, but he turned his heel, walking down different streets. Now, where was that tavern that Filippo had sometimes mentioned...?  
  
As much as gossip and rumours annoyed Frankenstein, it would point him in a direction to begin his search rather than trying to wade through everything, and Filippo had seemed like he kept an ear out for it.   
  
It was a start.   


* * *

  
At night it wasn't so strange for someone to have their hood up to ward from the cold, nor to wear a scarf, and Frankenstein made sure they were enough to hide his scars.   
  
Filippo wasn't hard to spot leaving the tavern, especially when he left early.   
  
The streets were quiet but it wasn't the dead of the night. There were still still people milling around, a few patrolling guards.   
  
He kept to the shadows, following Filippo.   


* * *

  
Frankenstein looked around, but there was no-one else within earshot. Human earshot, at least.   
  
"Filippo," he hissed as Filippo unlocked his door.   
  
Filippo whirled around, eyes wide. "Yes? Can I-?" He peered under Frankenstein's hood.   
  
Frankenstein pulled it back enough to reveal his face to him.   
  
"Frank-" Filippo's eyes darted around them, and he then ushered Frankenstein inside.   
  
Filippo understood he wanted secrecy. Good. Though that also told him that more rumours had spread within the Union.   
  
...Rumours had always been spread about him in the Union, even before he'd ran, so that shouldn't have been much of a surprise.   
  
"Frankenstein? How have you been?" Filippo said once he had closed the door.   
  
There were many things he could say to that. "I've been doing well," Frankenstein said as he lowered his hood. It was the truth.   
  
"The rumour mill has been spinning had since you, ah, left," Filippo said, puttering around to start a fire. "Including one where people said you went to live with the werewolves!" He let out a small laugh.   
  
So they were trying to destroy his reputation both with the populace and within.   
  
Filippo looked up once a spark caught. "I suppose that's why you came to me, rather than going to the Union?"   
  
Hm, Filippo was smarter than he gave him credit for. Or maybe he was better at social interactions than studying and research. "Yes, that's exactly why I came to you - the Union has made it rather clear that they're displeased at me."   
  
Filippo nodded, adding water to a kettle before putting it over the fire. "What do you want to know?"   
  
Frankenstein didn't say anything for a few seconds after he sat down, studying him. Filippo seemed to be rather relaxed around him, aside from the wariness of Frankenstein being followed. "You seem rather...forward about giving me information?" He hadn't known Filippo well but Frankenstein had thought he would side with the Union, and that he would need to convince Filippo first.   
  
Filippo gave him a small smile, collecting cups. "You did tell me to not trust gossip as I heard it. I couldn't confirm with you if they were true or not, but they were so outlandish it was easy not to believe."   
  
It was good that Filippo had taken in that bit of advice.   
  
"So? Your questions? I'm sure you have a lot of them," Filippo said as he poured the boiling water from the kettle to the cups.   
  
"How is the research going?" Was it going as badly as he thought it was?  
  
"On werewolf transformation?" Filippo shook his head. "That stalled when you left. I was moved to help with creating a human soul weapon."  
  
Frankenstein raised an eyebrow. "And how is that progressing?" The last he saw, they were still puzzling over the mechanism of how to create one, and considering what had happened with the werewolf transformation, Frankenstein dreaded the answer of how many lives had been lost.   
  
"It hasn't. There have been quite a few alchemists lamenting the lack of your insight."  
  
Hah, good. It meant less people had been hurt, and maybe without him, they would learn how to work out their own calculations.   
  
"Though..." Filippo stirred some sugar into his tea. "Osbern is still working on the werewolf transformation. I heard he had secured some werewolves for study - I'd seen some people being carried into Osbern's room."  
  
Frankenstein frowned. They could be the ones being tested rather than werewolves, but if it were true, how had Osbern managed that? The Union was a force to be reckoned with, but in terms of brute force, they shouldn't be able to take down one werewolf, let alone multiple.   
  
Though, if silver was involved...   
  
"With no success?" Frankenstein said.   
  
Filippo nodded.   
  
Something was off. It had been months since he had left - how had Osbern been allowed to spend this long on something with no results?  
  
"You didn't know, did you...?" Filippo asked softly.   
  
Frankenstein blinked, trying to follow Filippo's question. He couldn't be asking how Osbern had acquired werewolves. "Know what?"  
  
"About the experiments Osbern had been doing with your research."  
  
...Ah.   
  
"I realised I'd never talked to you about them before the day you disappeared," Filippo continued. "I know how hard you work and how much of a perfectionist you are - you wouldn't have left something unfinished." Filippo smiled sadly into his tea. "I'd listened to Osbern talk, but then never confirmed it with you. If I had, you would have learned about it earlier."   
  
There was a chance it could have been stopped before those people had died. Or it would have merely delayed what would happened. "...That's in the past now," Frankenstein said, closing his eyes briefly. "We can't do anything about what's already happened, but we can learn from it and continue forward." That was what research was all about.   
  
"Yes," Filippo said. His smile faded and he exhaled, the wisps from his tea twisting. "You hadn't come to clear your name, did you?  
  
"No," Frankenstein admitted. "There is little chance of that succeeding, nor would I want to. I'd needed information, and you've given me that. Thank you."   
  
Frankenstein glanced at the door and stood up. He had been here long enough. "I think I've taken up more than enough of your time. Sorry that I can't stay for tea." He paused, ears still straining for anything outside. "I'll try to make sure nothing traces back to you."   
  
Filippo nodded, going to the door. "It was nice seeing you again."   
  
Frankenstein lifted his hood. "And with luck, you won't ever again."   
  
The street was still quiet when Filippo opened the door.   
  
Frankenstein hurried out and as soon as he was out of Filippo's line of sight, he ran, the buildings blurring. The Union had eyes and ears everywhere and it was best he was seen around Filippo as little as possible.   
  
But the conversation had been fruitful. He had another thread to follow.   


* * *

  
Having more strength made it far easier to reach the rooftops and with the better vantage point, he had a much clearer view of the Union building's entrance. It had the added benefit that most people didn't look up so long as he didn't move and kept his cloak in check. He made sure to stay crouched in the shadow of a chimney as he waited.   
  
Now he just had to wait for Osbern to appear.   


* * *

  
The night chilled the later it became, less and less people passing by as time wore on.   
  
Osbern still hadn't left, and hm. Had he arrived too late? Had Osbern already left for the evening?   
  
It was nice drinking up the familiar sights and seeing a few of the faces he remembered. They seemed to be doing well, aside from having later nights than Frankenstein remembered. His heart ached a little at the sight of them, and hm, maybe he had missed being amongst other humans more than he thought. Even the ones he hadn't interacted much with. They had been in his life, and now they were not.   
  
Frankenstein stilled when he felt werewolf auras approaching. What were werewolves doing _here_ inside a human settlement? Had they tracked him down?   
  
Frankenstein calmed his breathing, trying to settle his thoughts like Dorant had taught him to.   
  
Now that he was focused, Frankenstein could sense it was a small number of werewolves, not more than three. Not that it would take many to kill him if they wanted.   
  
But it was strange. They weren't acting like how he would expect them to.   
  
They were moving in a distinct direction that was away from the more populated area, not circling around trying to find him.   
  
Had they found him, or were they here for another reason? It couldn't be to control the town - they weren't attacking humans.   
  
If they weren't here for him, then why _were_ they here?  
  
He double-checked his dagger was still at his hip. It was. Frankenstein glanced back at the Union building before moving to follow the werewolves.   
  
Osbern could wait. For now, the werewolves were far more important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tea hadn't spread to Europe yet by this time, but Frankenstein had brought it to Lukedonia, so...


	15. Chapter 15

  
  
Frankenstein snorted, following the werewolves. They moved like warriors, keeping to the rooftops, but they couldn't sense or hear him following so they weren't that observant.   
  
When he got close enough to get a good look at them, Frankenstein frowned.   
  
He didn't recognise them, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was that there was someone being carried under the arm of one of the werewolves.   
  
While the werewolves on their feet were clothed in the warrior cloak, the unconscious one had more layers on. Someone who wasn't a warrior.   
  
He ducked into the shadow of a chimney as the werewolves stopped at a rooftop.   
  
Frankenstein could see the unconscious one were still breathing at least. That was good.   
  
A hostage? No, that didn't make sense. At least to the warriors Frankenstein knew.   
  
The werewolves didn't do anything and Frankenstein frowned.   
  
Looked like he was in for another waiting game. He had his targets in sight for this one though.   


* * *

  
Frankenstein turned his head towards the sound of a carriage approaching. It wasn't a strange sight, even at this time of night, but the werewolves stirred and hm, maybe he would finally find out what was happening.   
  
The carriage stopped next to the building and-  
  
Frankenstein's eyebrow shot up. Well, well, that tied things up nicely.   
  
Osbern stepped out of the carriage and scurried quickly to the side of the building the werewolves were standing on.   
  
The werewolves waited a moment and then jumped down to where Osbern had gone, taking the unconscious werewolf with them.   
  
Frankenstein jumped to their rooftop as soon as they disappeared from his sight. If he had timed it exactly, they wouldn't hear his landing over their own.   
  
He snuck closer.   
  
His enhanced hearing meant he didn't have to be too close to hear them, but he would rather see what was happening as well.   
  
The unconscious werewolf was at the feet of the warriors as Osbern tried to greet them.   
  
"Have you got it, human?" the warrior in front said.   
  
Got what...?  
  
"Of course I do," Osbern said, holding up a book. There was no title or author on it.   
  
"Great." The warrior held out his hand.   
  
Osbern tossed the book over. It was going to fall short. The warrior nodded towards the warrior on his right and she snatched it from the air before it hit the ground.   
  
Something was wrong. This was going too smoothly. They'd done this before.   
  
If Osbern was exchanging information, then what were the werewolves...  
  
The air got caught in Frankenstein's throat.   
  
No.   
  
Frankenstein stilling in shock must have saved him, because the warriors left, jumping to the opposite rooftop and didn't see him.   
  
The unconscious werewolf was still there.   
  
He could follow the werewolves or he could question Osbern. The warriors seemed to only be carriers, lackeys. Osbern however... He could get more information here.   
  
And he couldn't leave the werewolf either.   
  
"They're so strong and yet they can't carry the body an extra few steps to the cab," Osbern muttered as he stooped over the werewolf. He turned away, walking towards the carriage.  
  
Frankenstein jumped down while Osbern was distracted. "Dealing with werewolves, Osbern," Frankenstein drawled, kneeling beside the werewolf. "Have you sunk so low?" The werewolf's heartbeat was strong, in the very least.   
  
Osbern whirled around, almost tripping over his feet. "Hah?" He froze, his eyes going wide. "Frankenst- _Me_? Sunk so low?" He drew himself up to his full height, which was still shorter than Frankenstein's own. "And what of you? You're _living_ with the beasts!" he hissed.   
  
Frankenstein stood up, dusting off his knees. "And that gives me the unique experience to know this one isn't even a warrior - your negotiation is just as bad as your research," he said with a sigh.   
  
Osbern frowned. "What do you mean, 'not even a warrior'? A werewolf is a werewolf. It's more than _you_ managed." He sniffed.   
  
Frankenstein raised an eyebrow. He may not have gotten a whole werewolf, but he had been able to gain his information through his own work. "Really." He shook his head. "And that's why your research was so subpar - you settled for whatever you got rather than digging further into what you could improve."   
  
He didn't have time for this - who knew when the werewolf would regain consciousness and what he would do. "What did you give them?"  
  
"Hmph." Osbern crossed his arms. "As much as you're laying with them, you continue to be tight-fisted with your work."   
  
Frankenstein's heart stopped, and his gut lurched. No.   
  
Osbern gave him a tight smile at his reaction. "They are willing to exchange their own for your research. If either of us makes a breakthrough in getting your research to actually _work_ , we'll share it with each other."  
  
"As if _you_ would be able to do such of a thing," Frankenstein said. How long had this been going on for? How many more people had been hurt with his research? Even werewolves were doing it now...   
  
Osbern glared at him. "Do you really think that your intellect is _that_ great that it's incomprehensible for us 'less gifted' as you? When your research didn't even work? You were just acting after the attack, pretending you had made a breakthrough!"  
  
Frankenstein merely raised an eyebrow. Hm, teaching Garda what would insult him to use against him helped him to keep a hold of his anger. "And yet you're frustrated and desperate enough to get my research to work for you, like you knew I succeeded." Frankenstein peered at him. "Like you knew I stay with the werewolves." The pieces fell into place. "They told you."   
  
Osbern went wide-eyed again.   
  
"You've had my research for how long now?" Frankenstein said. "Months? Almost a year? How many successes have you had so far?"   
  
Osbern's mouth flapped like a fish, and with his wide eyes, added even more to the image.   
  
"You were oh so _very_ successful using my research that you had to delegate research with the people it's actually based on!" Frankenstein said, curling his lip.   
  
"And you haven't done the same?" Osbern spluttered.   
  
"No," Frankenstein said, snorting. "The ones I talk to haven't helped with my tests - they have been teaching me how to use my transformation the best way possible."  
  
"So you've been giving _them_ your research?"   
  
Frankenstein paused. "Hm. No..." What _had_ he been exchanging for their lessons? Had they been teaching him without expecting anything in return? "Good fights and companionship, apparently." And that had been enough for them?   
  
"That's all? No wonder they came to me for something more valuable than your _words_ ," Osbern said. "Everyone knows you would rather hole up by yourself than to deign to talk to the rest of us unless we needed your help."   
  
Frankenstein exhaled, staring at him. ...He _had_ been like that in the Union, hadn't he? What had changed?   
  
The werewolves had welcomed him, drawing him in, but also allowed him to be by himself when he wanted. They didn't talk to him only when they needed him to solve their problems - the werewolves talked to him about anything they wanted, asking about him while also talking about themselves.   
  
Exchanging. Not just taking. Like in a fight.   
  
Frankenstein let out a soft chuckle. Damn. Of course.   
  
"What is so fun - what are you doing?"  
  
"I got what I came for," Frankenstein said lifting up the werewolf, moving his head so it rested against his shoulder. And he was done with Osbern. He wouldn't get any more information aside from more bickering. "I'll return this one back home."  
  
"Hey!" Osbern strode towards him but flinched back when Frankenstein glowered at him. "I paid for that! It's mine!"   
  
Frankenstein curled his lip, controlling his temper. "Paid with _my_ research, so therefore, this werewolf is mine to do with as I see fit." He turned his back on Osbern, walking away. "Good night to you."   
  
"You can't just-!"   
  
It was satisfying hearing Osbern's voice fade as he jumped to the rooftops and ran out of the town.   


* * *

  
Frankenstein checked the werewolf's pulse after setting him down on the forest floor. It was still strong and steady, and his breathing wasn't laboured. He was young - maybe only just old enough to have gained his claws.   
  
The warriors would be long gone by now, but this werewolf's wellbeing was important. And he knew where the warriors would be heading with his research.   
  
He glowered in the direction of the werewolf territory. He would find them. Somehow.  
  
He glanced down when he heard a soft sound from the werewolf.   
  
The werewolf opened his eyes, focusing on him instantly. That was a good sign.   
  
"How are you feeling?" Frankenstein asked, handing him his waterskin.   
  
"All right?" The werewolf sat up and took it, sipping. "Am I here?"  
  
"'Here'?" Frankenstein repeated. The werewolf knew what was happening? And they were fine with it?  
  
"Yeah," the werewolf said, looking around at the trees. "The warriors said they were taking me somewhere I could help werewolves, and then..." He frowned, his gaze drifting. "I was here."   
  
That was one way of putting 'help'. Tricking their own people and then using them... Was that had Osbern had been doing, or just having people collected off the streets with no pretence? "I don't suppose they gave you their names or mentioned any places that seemed important to them?" It would help to narrow tracking them down.   
  
The werewolf shook his head.  
  
Ah well. There would be other ways he could try to find them. "No matter. I'll be taking you back to the werewolf territory."   
  
"Huh?" The werewolf looked at him, confused. "Did something change?"  
  
"...Yes," Frankenstein said. "If all goes well, you shouldn't be asked to do that again." Though, on that thought... "Do you know more of warriors showing up and asking others to do the same as you did?"   
  
"Hm." The werewolf was quiet for a few seconds. "No, but there's been a couple of werewolves who've disappeared over the last few months. I thought they might have just moved elsewhere though." He looked at Frankenstein. "You think the warriors asked them for their help as well?"  
  
Ever since he'd arrived. Dammit. Frankenstein smiled at them. "Thank you for telling me. Do you feel well enough to travel back?"   
  
The werewolf nodded.  
  
Good. He needed to get back as soon as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had lots of fun with the academic fight, ahhaha.


	16. Chapter 16

Returning the werewolf back home didn't take long, but Frankenstein tried to linger as little as possible. He'd been directed towards the families of the disappeared werewolves and hadn't found much.   
  
The only things the missing werewolves had in common was they were werewolves who recently gained their claws, who hadn't shown the inclination to become warriors.   
  
Ones who hadn't chosen the path to get stronger.   
  
Muzaka needed to know what his people were doing. But Frankenstein needed to check on his lab first. There wasn't anything left, but...he needed to make sure.   
  
It didn't take him long to reach his lab, the sun rising in the sky, but he stopped at the sight of it. His lab had been underground, the door hidden at a glance.   
  
_Had_ been.   
  
Now the door had been torn off, leaving his lab open to everything.   
  
Frankenstein crept closer, straining his ears, but he couldn't hear any movement inside. Keeping a hand on his dagger's hilt, Frankenstein scooped up a rock as he passed and tossed it into his lab.   
  
He heard it bounce around, but nothing reacted to it. Empty.   
  
Then...   
  
Frankenstein peered into his lab, and even with the limited light he could see the remains of his overturned desk, the shards of his vials glinting from the floor.   
  
Someone had destroyed his lab.   
  
Someone had come to his lab while he hadn't been there and destroyed it. How long ago had it happened? Recently? No, there were leaves and dust on the floor that must have blown in after the door was taken off.   
  
His lab had been fine the last time he'd been here.   
  
How long after he'd left was it attacked?   
  
If he'd waited to leave, would he have been trapped and broken along with his belongings?  
  
He gritted his teeth, clamping down on his anger. His research hadn't been taken. That was the most important fact. Or his most recent findings in the very least. His lab being destroyed meant more people than Muzaka had known where it was.   
  
But he couldn't stay here, it wasn't safe. Frankenstein backed out but paused, a familiar aura approaching.  
  
...Damn, in his distraction he'd forgotten to hide his presence. It was too late now but he calmed himself down as she approached, in case he alerted anyone else to his arrival.   
  
Garda reached him but skidded to a stop when she saw him. Like she hadn't expected him to be there. But then why had she come straight to his lab?   
  
"Garda?" Frankenstein said. "What's wrong?"   
  
She looked him up and down. "Ah, I hadn't heard you'd returned."   
  
That was the point. Which lead Frankenstein back to his question of what she was doing at his lab. "As you can see, I have. Did you need me for something?"   
  
There was the familiar rustle of the leaves and Dorant jumped down from the branches.   
  
Frankenstein sighed. He still couldn't sense Dorant's approach. "Does _everyone_ know where I live?" he muttered. Was he not as hidden as he thought he was?  
  
"Yes?" Garda said, peering past him, her eyes caught by the broken door. "You weren't able to hide your aura well when you first arrived."   
  
...Oh. He really hadn't been that hidden away for werewolves. He'd hidden himself like a human at the start, not knowing how werewolves perceived the world.   
  
But then, why had it only been Muzaka who had come to his door? Everyone else seemed to find him while he was away from his lab.   
  
"You're alive..." Dorant murmured and Frankenstein's attention snapped to him.   
  
Right. There were far more important things to think about it - he could be distracted with those questions later. "How did you know there had been an attempt on my life?" Frankenstein asked him, studying him. Only Muzaka had known and Frankenstein was sure he would have kept silent this time. So how had Dorant heard?   
  
Garda started at his words, but not much as Frankenstein had expected. Had she heard as well?  
  
Dorant exhaled, looking away. "There is a group of werewolves dissatisfied with Lord Muzaka's current leadership," he said, his foot swinging slowly back and forth, which Frankenstein had found he only did when he was thinking hard over something, "and wish to use their power to rule over humans."   
  
"I'm aware of that," Frankenstein said. If he didn't know that, he wouldn't have come to the werewolf territory in the first place.   
  
Dorant glanced back at him. "They're currently celebrating your death and..." He trailed off, frowning.   
  
"They've recently received new research to use," Frankenstein finished, nodding.  
  
Dorant blinked. "You're really good at searching out knowledge."   
  
"Research?" Garda said, looking between them.   
  
"If I truly was, I would have found this plot out months ago," Frankenstein said with a sigh. He turned to Garda. "You didn't know?" How far had this spread under Muzaka's nose?  
  
Garda huffed. "I'm too loyal to Muzaka. I had heard the rumblings, but I was never approached to join them." She shook her head. "But how did they know someone had tried to kill you?"   
  
Frankenstein snorted. "Because they were the ones who set it up with the humans."   
  
" _What_?"  
  
"But they hate humans," Dorant said, frowning.   
  
"Rather hypocritical isn't it?" Frankenstein said, curling his lip. "Humans had something they wanted: a way to get stronger, and they were willing to trade werewolves for it."   
  
Fur rippled over Dorant's cheeks before they smoothened out again. "Gain strength, no matter what, huh," he muttered.   
  
Hm. Was that what the other werewolves had said to him to convince him to join them?   
  
"Indeed," Frankenstein said. "I suppose I should have seen this as a natural progression from your current mindset." But the warriors had seemed fine to continue training to get stronger. He hadn't met with every werewolf though, had he?  
  
"Now, the problem is finding out where they're-"  
  
"Hnn, what's this?" Three werewolf warriors jumped down from tree branches.   
  
Dammit. He'd been too distracted to check if there had been any other werewolves approaching. There was too much to think about right now.   
  
"Dorant," the short redhaired one drawled, her eyes pinned on Frankenstein, "you left the celebration so early, we got worried."  
  
"And you're just talking with that human -who's meant to be _dead_ \- like it's nothing?" the second one said.   
  
"You're really siding with the human?"   
  
Dorant moved so he was standing between the werewolves and Frankenstein.   
  
Wait, what was he...  
  
"He may be filled with contradictions, but he did it to protect his people," Dorant said, tugging his cloak off, "not hurt them. He would rather stand alone than stand with those who worked to hurt his people."  
  
Frankenstein's eyes widened. He knew exactly what Dorant was doing, but-  
  
"We're getting stronger to protect our people!" the first werewolf snarled. None of the other werewolves reached for their cloaks. Yet.   
  
Dorant tossed his cloak to the side. "You didn't mention that to get stronger, we would be stepping on the bodies we were meant to protect."   
  
"Tch." The first werewolf curled his lip. "Keep talking like that and you'll be used for the next round of tests. Actually, I heard they've got a couple spaces right now."  
  
Frankenstein sucked in a breath. No, how much had the werewolves done already? How many had been hurt?   
  
"Hm." Dorant continued staring down the werewolves. "Garda, the lab is at the three claws."   
  
Where?   
  
"Hey! You can't-" The first werewolf strode forward a step but hesitated when Dorant didn't back up.   
  
"I'll deal with these three," Dorant said over his shoulder. "Go."   
  
"You can't keep all of us here!" the redhead said. She dashed to the side.   
  
Frankenstein lurched back a step, a heavy weight pressing on him as Dorant transformed.   
  
The redhead yelped and stumbled back.   
  
"Yes, I can," Dorant said calmly.   
  
Strong. The only aura that came close to that that Frankenstein had felt before was Muzaka's.   
  
Frankenstein snapped his attention to Garda as she grabbed his arm and yanked him away. "Come on!"   
  


* * *

  
No-one followed them as Frankenstein and Garda ran. Frankenstein could still feel the whispers of Dorant's aura at his back, which meant he was still alive. Still fighting. For them.   
  
Guilt welled up in Frankenstein's chest, an almost solid presence. This was happening because of him.   
  
This was _all_ happening because of him. All his research was the cause for this. His attempts to try to help humans led to humans dying, to werewolves being stolen from their homes to be bled dry, to werewolves fighting amongst themselves.   
  
Was it worth it?   
  
What good had his research brought?   
  
It seemed the only one who had benefited from his work was him, and yet, even then, there had been a cost to that as well. He had been cut off from his own people, on the run for months on end, hunted for his work.   
  
Maybe he should just leave his work to be ashes in the wind. Every time he picked up his pen, it eventually caused the people around him to be hurt.   
  
They stopped at the base of a mountain and Frankenstein caught his breath as Garda looked around.   
  
"I don't see anything," Garda said, frowning.   
  
"If they were smart," Frankenstein said, still gulping in air, "they would have built the lab-" Saying the word still made Frankenstein's stomach lurch. Had they really started tests because of him? On their own people? "-higher up." It would be harder for people to stumble across.   
  
Though, that was his own human way of thinking. For werewolves, the mountain would be easy to climb.   
  
Staring skywards, the mountain did look like three claws, with three jutting peaks close to each other.   
  
They jumped to the first available outcropping and there was no sign of anything amiss. They climbed higher and higher until they found the clear entrance gouged into the rock. The werewolf claws were easy to see at the edges. It hadn't been hard to find, but they'd known where it was, and it was far enough from the werewolf territory for a werewolf to stumble across it.   
  
Frankenstein squared his shoulders, staring into the entrance. He could see sunlight lighting the corridor around the corner.   
  
"Garda," he said. "You should go back. Get Muzaka. This is happening because of my work; this is my responsibility to take care of." He had to find out what the werewolves were doing with his work.  
  
"This involves _my_ people, Frankenstein!" Garda snarled. "This isn't yours to deal with alone." She paused, and then she huffed. "Also, you can't manage even one semi-transformed warrior - how are you going to deal with however many is in there?"  
  
...Ah. Right, of course. He closed his eyes and exhaled. "Yes, you're right." Even after everything he'd done, he still wasn't close to being strong enough to defend himself in a true fight.   
  
"Let's go," Garda said, heading for the entrance.   
  


* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small headcanon of mine is werewolves don't challenge each other to a spar outside their homes, because that's how you end up with a wrecked house, haha.


	17. Chapter 17

"Wait," Frankenstein said, backing up a step, trying to see more of the rock face.   
  
"We're wasting time-"   
  
"And there are other ways to enter a building than the one everyone else does," Frankenstein said. "If they have windows to light their corridors then maybe... There." He pointed to the rough circular holes above their heads. Two, three... More than that, and they were in a line. It didn't make sense to light a corridor so...   
  
"What do they mean?" Garda said, squinting.   
  
"Rooms. They might be rooms where werewolves are being kept." But if that was the case, then why didn't the werewolf inside just climb or jump out the window?   
  
Unless non-warriors weren't only being used to barter with humans.   
  
"...Are you sure you want to continue?" Frankenstein said. To see what her people had done?   
  
"Of course. I'm not running away from what's been done, or what has to be done."   
  
Like he had.   
  
Had there been anything else that he could have done back then? Those people had already died.   
  
But he'd done nothing to help those who had come after.   
  
Stopping his research from being found only meant more people were hurt as Osbern used his old research. If he'd stayed, maybe he could have mitigated the damage, found out what was wrong and more people wouldn't have died.   
  
"Frankenstein?"  
  
Right. Frankenstein shook his head. "Sorry." He had ran before, but this time he wouldn't. "Would we be able to enter from the higher rooms?" If the rooms had been created with werewolf claws, then they could take down the walls to enter as well. "That way we should be able to find the werewolves they'd taken faster." Hopefully there would be some that were still alive.   
  
Garda frowned, her eyes going towards the front entrance.   
  
"I know you want to fight," Frankenstein said, "but our priority is finding anyone who is still alive right now." Fighting would prolong the abducted werewolves getting help and who knew how much time they had left.   
  
She growled low. "Fine," she said. She hopped up, peering into the closest window as she held onto the edge.   
  
He was going to have to teach her about sneaking around, quickly.   
  
"It's empt..." She trailed off, looking to her left.   
  
When Frankenstein jumped up, he could smell the familiar scent of rot.   
  
Again. Finding out far too late again.   
  
Garda leaped to the next window. As soon she looked, she snarled, tearing a chunk out of the rock face before diving in.   
  
Frankenstein winced and leapt to catch the rock before it smashed to the ground. ...There was never a chance they would have gone in stealthily. He set the rock down and scrambled in after her.   
  
Three bodies slumped against the wall, their eyes staring at nothing. The bodies were clothed in multiple layers. Non-warriors.   
  
They were still transformed and was that normal? The corpses at the Union had been the same, but now that Frankenstein knew more about the transformation, it was off. The transformation had to be consciously maintained, through thought and with energy. The transformation was always let go before it drained the person completely.   
  
Was whatever they were doing locking the transformation into place until they died?   
  
"They just...left the bodies?" Garda said, staring at them. "They didn't even-" She was shaking, fur flashing up over her skin as Frankenstein felt a weight grow on his shoulders.   
  
"We need to keep moving," Frankenstein urged her, eyes darting to the door. If her anger was sensed throughout the lab, it would alert the others they were there.   
  
"I'm going to kill everyone involved with this," she said, a growl reverberating through all her words.   
  
Dammit. "We need to save those we can first."   
  
"And we can save them by killing those involved so they won't be hurt again," Garda snapped, glaring at him.   
  
Well, that was another way to look at it.   
  
"There's nothing we can do for them right now," Frankenstein said, holding her gaze. "We need to go _now_."  
  
She growled and stalked towards the door. It disintegrated into ragged pieces before she reached it and Frankenstein winced as he followed her.   
  
It...could have been louder. Not by much, and Frankenstein glanced around when he stepped into the corridor, though it wasn't necessary: if Garda had seen another werewolf, he was certain she would have attacked them already.   
  
Garda broke the door to the second room. She stared in for a second and then stalked off, growling.   
  
Frankenstein peeked in and his heart grew heavier, seeing the four bodies there in the same state as the previous three.   
  
Garda tore off the door of the third room.   
  
"Ah!"  
  
Frankenstein froze at the cry and rushed forward.   
  
Two bodies curled up on the ground. One werewolf huddling in the corner, staring at them. Alive. Pale and sweating, looking as if she hadn't had a meal in a week, but _alive_. She wasn't transformed like the others.   
  
"Hey, hey, it's all right," Frankenstein said, slowing down when the werewolf flinched back. "We're not here to hurt you."   
  
"But you're..." The werewolf paused to take a breath, shaking her head, dark curly hair moving in clumps.   
  
"I think most werewolves before us arrived by opening the door," Frankenstein said wryly. That was one positive of Garda tearing through the lab.   
  
The werewolf looked behind Frankenstein, presumably at Garda.   
  
"Do you know if there are any others?" Frankenstein asked softly. "Any who survived?"   
  
The werewolf shook her head. "They were all-" She shook her head again, her eyes squeezed shut, shuddering.   
  
She must have seen them die in front of her.   
  
_This_ was the pain and suffering his research had wrought.   
  
"What's your name?"   
  
The werewolf didn't say anything for a few seconds, before she opened her eyes, looking at him. "Langrol. Why?"  
  
Frankenstein smiled at her, holding out his hand. "Let's get you out of here, Langrol." Before someone came back to do tests on her again.   
  
Langrol opened her mouth but before she could say anything, Garda growled.   
  
Frankenstein sucked in a breath, becoming aware of the werewolf presences approaching quickly from inside the lab.   
  
"Good," Garda said, grinning as she transformed. " _I_ get to kill them and _you_ get to save Langrol." She swung at the outside wall and it crumbled to pieces, letting in the sunlight. "We both get to do what we want."   
  
"Come on," Frankenstein said, pulling Langrol to her feet. "We'll escape this way."   
  
Langrol pulled away, her eyes wide. "I can't make that! I - I'm not a warrior!"   
  
Oh, dammit, of course. "I can carry you," he said, holding his arms out.   
  
She peered at the drop and then looked behind her. She closed her eyes and then nodded.   
  
Frankenstein carried in her arms and as he jumped he heard Garda's slash crash into something, a howl accompanying the scent of blood.   
  
"Oi!" Garda yelled out. "With your claws so dull, I can take on both of you at once!"   
  
" _What?_ "  
  
Frankenstein smiled tightly as he landed, jumping forward. It was good to know his conversations about insults had been listened to and remembered.   
  
His smile faded. But even after all this time and everything he'd learned, he couldn't rely on his own strength to protect himself or others...   
  
He looked down at Langrol, who was clutching his tunic, her face buried in his chest. If he could save her, then... That was something.   
  
They landed on the forest floor and Frankenstein looked up, dust and debris falling from the hole in the mountain. Damn. He blinked, trying to clear his eyes.   
  
"Can you stand?" Frankenstein asked.   
  
"Yes," she said, "but I wouldn't be able to keep up with you, even if I wasn't... _this_."   
  
He nodded, running again. "Gather your strength for now." He had no food or water to give her. Hopefully she would be able to last until he found something.   
  
He would be able to carry her for a while yet and by then it should be a safe enough distance from-  
  
Frankenstein sucked in a breath, skidding to a stop.   
  
The slash whistled past, toppling the trees beside them. It was still strong enough to knock him to his feet, dropping Langrol. If he had kept going, they would have been sliced to pieces.   
  
Damn! Frankenstein strained his senses as he scrambled to his feet, trying to find where the werewolf is.   
  
There-!  
  
He jumped back, avoiding another slash.   
  
Frankenstein narrowed his eyes when a werewolf jumped into view. Short brown hair, sharp features. It was the black, fur-lined jacket that Frankenstein remembered most.   
  
"I thought I sensed your detestable presence," the werewolf -Maduke?- said, his lip curled. He snorted. "I should have known I can't rely on humans to kill you."  
  
Frankenstein pursed his lips. So it went as high as Muzaka's inner circle...   
  
"Run," Frankenstein muttered, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the rustle of leaves, Langrol's presence fading.   
  
"What do you think you're doing here, human," Maduke said, glancing behind Frankenstein for a second. "Do you think she'll get far like that before we catch up?"   
  
He needed to stall for as long as possible to give her the biggest chance to reach the werewolf territory. Frankenstein curled his lip. "I kill you now, and she'll be free to take as long as it takes."  
  
Maduke threw his head back and barked out a laugh. "You? Kill _me_? Lord Muzaka isn't here to protect you here - I'll deal with you in one slice and collect her afterwards."   
  
Maduke was still talking. Good. "Or was it your own cowardice that stopped you?" Frankenstein said. "You didn't dare to attack me or challenge Muzaka's title to change things to what you wanted it to be - instead you made deals under Muzaka's nose, hiding away from your territory to work and steal werewolves from their homes."   
  
Frankenstein touched his lips, pretending to think. "Oh, that doesn't sound like a very werewolf thing to do, does it? Not very direct. One could say that was a _human_ tactic."   
  
He sucked in a breath, a weight pressing against his shoulders and he gritted his teeth, keeping himself upright.   
  
"You compare me, a werewolf, to one of _you_?" Maduke snarled, tearing off his jacket.   
  
Scars marking a werewolf's body wasn't surprising, especially after getting used to seeing Muzaka's deep scars, but Frankenstein's gaze was drawn to a scar on Maduke's side. The original wound was a small neat slice, but around it, the skin had mottled and puckered. Like it had reacted with whatever had caused the wound.   
  
Frankenstein recognised that scarring.   
  
He'd seen it with the werewolves he'd captured. It was the reaction from silver.   
  
And he _knew_ that scar, even though he'd never seen it like that. "You're the one I stabbed," he said faintly. All those months ago. The first werewolf he'd ever met.   
  
Maduke sneered at him. "Seeing you walk up to the throne beside Lord Muzaka was almost enough to reveal myself. You were lucky to survive our first encounter, but you won't this time."   
  
It was unlikely he would survive, but that wasn't important. He had to stall for as much time as possible.   
  
He could fight this like a werewolf, but he wasn't one; he would need to make as many advantages as he could. Frankenstein pulled out his dagger. It still felt good in his hand even though he hadn't used it much in the last couple of months.   
  
"Tch." Maduke bared his teeth at Frankenstein. "You take out a weapon before taking off your jacket?"  
  
Frankenstein smiled. "At what point did I suggest that I would take it off?" Removing the cloak was a sign they had agreed to fight; he didn't know quite what it meant to refuse to remove it, but from how Maduke bristled, it looked like it was insulting. Good. "Since you seemed so inclined to fight like a human, I thought I should indulge you."   
  
"You think not removing your jacket will stop me from attacking you? I am not bound by that warrior tradition."   
  
"Or honour, clearly," Frankenstein said. "Since-"  
  
He tensed, the air growing heavy with Maduke's aura.   
  
That would hopefully be enough stalling.   
  
Maduke transformed, fur sprouting up his arms.   
  
Frankenstein staggered, trying to breathe. Damn. He hadn't fought anyone fully transformed before and the difference was obvious. He'd felt Dorant's transformation, but Dorant's aura hadn't been directed at _him_.  
  
Frankenstein had just enough time to see Maduke lunge towards him before throwing himself to the side. The spot he'd been standing exploded in a cloud of dirt.   
  
Every single second counted. If he hesitated, he would lose. Not just the fight, but his life.   
  
Maduke span around and as he leaned forward, Frankenstein transformed, jumping out the way.   
  
He jumped twice as high as he expected, the fur up his arm ruffling in the wind.   
  
Dammit, this was _not_ the time to finally get a full transformation! He stumbled as he landed, legs moving faster than his brain could understand.   
  
He was overflowing with power, everything sharper around him.   
  
He could see Maduke chasing him, hand raised as he slashed down. He could see it all, but it was too much, too fast for him to take it all in at once and understand.   
  
The extra burst in speed kept him out of Maduke's reach, but it was only just, Maduke's claws sometimes catching Frankenstein's tunic.   
  
"Is that all you do?" Maduke snarled. "Run away?"   
  
Frankenstein let go of his transformation as Maduke talked, jumping away to keep as much as distance between them as possible. "It seems all you do is talk," Frankenstein said, grinning, trying to keep his words as even as possible as he panted. "You're the werewolf and yet you can't even hit a human? How embarrassing."   
  
Maduke slashed up with a roar, a flurry of dirt arcing into the sky, claw marks deeper than Frankenstein's forearm gouging the ground. Just how much energy did werewolves _have_ to keep this up all the time?   
  
Maduke didn't seem to be stopping any time soon, charging at him again.   
  
Frankenstein transformed, and right, what had Garda done with him when he just attacked head on? What had he done to Muzaka?  
  
Frankenstein grabbed Maduke's left hand as it arced towards his head, digging his claws into Maduke's flesh.   
  
Maduke pulled free as Frankenstein jabbed with his dagger. Close. Not fast enough.   
  
"Shame," Frankenstein said, grinning as he adjusted his grip on his dagger, letting go of his transformation. "I was hoping to give you another scar to match your first one. I'll take...the first to draw blood, however."   
  
Maduke shook his hand, glowering at him. "It'll be the _only_ time you draw blood." He dashed forward again.   
  
There was only a few more times Frankenstein could transform. Less. He was working from what he knew of his partial transformation.   
  
His legs trembled from trying to keep him upright but he forced himself to transform again, everything a little brighter around the edges. He didn't have much time left.   
  
He didn't jump as far as he wanted when he dodged Maduke's slash. Damn, he was already-  
  
Frankenstein had enough time to raise his arms to protect himself from Maduke's slash.   
  
He was still blown off his feet and he landed heavily with a grunt, losing his hold of both his dagger and his transformation.   
  
No. He didn't have the energy to lift his head, seeing Maduke's feet approaching. He had to move. Get up. Get _up_.   
  
It was as if he was still transformed, seeing everything happening slowly, but his body wouldn't listen to him.   
  
Step by step, Maduke came closer and all Frankenstein could do was pant as his blood roared in his ears. He couldn't force any part of him to move - it was as if he was being held down by the air itself, and maybe it was Maduke's aura that was pinning him, now that he didn't have the strength to fight against it.   
  
Maduke reached down and wrapped a hand around Frankenstein's throat, digging his claws in as he squeezed. He yanked Frankenstein up and slammed him against a tree. Frankenstein struggled to get air back into his lungs through Maduke's grip, but he could barely move his hands, let alone bring them up to _do_ anything.   
  
" _This_ is familiar, isn't it?" Maduke hissed, pressing in. He looked down at something for a second. "Since you were so insistent on using it..." Frankenstein saw the gleam of his dagger in Maduke's hand. "And I should repay you for our first meeting."   
  
Maduke stabbed Frankenstein in the gut.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains: Blood and gore

It was as if Frankenstein had been stabbed with a burning poker, fire burning deeper into him as he screamed.   
  
"Now you know what I felt," Maduke hissed, twisting the dagger, bringing on more burning waves of pain. "But only a part of it, since you're still human."  
  
It was hard to think past the pain, even hear Maduke's words over the blood roaring in his ears, his heart hammering hard enough to _hurt_. He could _feel_ the silver in his veins, reaching further and further with each beat.   
  
"Maybe I should stab you a second time so can know how much pain you gave me." Maduke ripped the the dagger out and dropped him.   
  
Frankenstein landed at a heap at Maduke's feet, curling up around the pain as he gasped, his blood seeping out as he pressed his hand to the wound.   
  
"But you'll die soon anyway, so there's no point."   
  
Frankenstein saw the dagger clatter down by his face before he was flying, smashing into another tree. He slid down, pain screaming everywhere.   
  
He could see Maduke approach, and he could control his limbs more, but he could barely pull himself up.  
  
"I have to thank you, even though you're a human," Maduke said. "Without you, I wouldn't have known there was another way for werewolves to strengthen ourselves." He frowned at Frankenstein. "Though I did think it was a human plot to decrease our numbers since it killed so many of us."   
  
How could Maduke casually talk about his own people dying so he could be stronger? "How greedy," Frankenstein wheezed. "Or impatient? Can't fight Muzaka normally - you have to get stronger in a different way?"   
  
Frankenstein slammed into another tree. Ringing in his ears. But Maduke seemed to have forgotten Langrol. Good.   
  
"You've been here for _months_ and we had to ask the _humans_ for their research because _yours_ was indecipherable."   
  
They _had_ been going into his lab while he'd been away. Frankenstein smiled, tasting blood. "I've already had my work stolen once before - the research that was given to you. Made...sure it wouldn't happen again..." He'd slowed their progress in the very least.  
  
Maduke lifted him up by the throat again, and Frankenstein's eyes couldn't focus. He thought he could see something moving behind Maduke, but no, he was imagining that.   
  
"Then you can die knowing you helped werewolves gain even more str-"  
  
Maduke roared, letting go of Frankenstein.   
  
He dropped, locking his legs to stay upright as he leaned back against the tree. What had-?   
  
Maduke whirled around. The sound of flesh hitting flesh and - someone flew out of sight, crashing into a tree with a cry.   
  
One chance. Dammit. His body had to _move_.   
  
Frankenstein gritted his teeth and shoved himself away from the tree, drawing on what little energy he had left to transform. Ignore the pain, focus on what he had to do.   
  
Maduke turned as he lunged and Frankenstein jabbed his claws into Maduke's chest, grabbing a hold of Maduke's ribs. Now he knew Maduke couldn't dodge. Frankenstein felt Maduke's hot blood against his fingers as he slashed Maduke's neck, his claws scraping Maduke's spine.   
  
Frankenstein let go of Maduke's chest, hearing the hiss of escaped air as he fell to his knees, clutching his side again. He panted, the transformation disappearing. As monstrous as werewolf healing was, they still needed to breathe.   
  
He heard Maduke try to draw in breath as it eventually turned to a wet gargle.   
  
Maduke fell, his eyes staring sightlessly at him.   
  
Good. Should be enough. Frankenstein grimaced as he tried to breathe though the pain. This wasn't...   
  
He heard someone approach over his own ragged breathing and when he looked up, he could see a shape that vaguely resembled Langrol waver in his view.   
  
She'd come back?   
  
"Is... Is he dead?" she asked, crouching down next to him.   
  
"Should be," Frankenstein muttered. Maduke hadn't taken another breath yet.   
  
Hm. The blood from his abdomen was slowing down.  
  
Or he was losing the feeling in his extremities.   
  
He glanced down, but all he could see was a mass of red. All across his torso, over his leg and his hands were covered.   
  
"Why didn't you..." It was hard to think. Hard to make his tongue do what he wanted.   
  
"I heard your screams. I couldn't - I couldn't just leave you after you tried to save me. And then I heard what he'd said." She scrubbed at her eyes with her arm. "Those were my _friends_. We'd wanted to help and they're _dead_. And he didn't-"   
  
Frankenstein closed his eyes, focusing on breathing. "I'm sure...they will be glad you avenged their deaths." Those...were the words a werewolf would want to hear? Maybe. "Thank you. If you hadn't returned..." It didn't make much difference for him, but Maduke had been stopped.   
  
"No, it was your dagger that did it. I didn't have the strength to even transform."   
  
Oh? Frankenstein managed a smile. Maduke surprised again by someone he considered beneath him, and stabbed once more by his dagger. "Mm, you still stabbed him."   
  
"Then...we both did it."   
  
Yes. There was strength in numbers, wasn't there.   
  
Frankenstein saw something silver and something yellow waver into his view.   
  
"Lord Muzaka!"   
  
Aaah, he could relax now. "You're late," Frankenstein mumbled, feeling himself list to the side. Instead of thumping onto the ground, Muzaka must have caught him, because all he could see was red cloth and white fur. "'m..." Hard to breathe, hard to talk. "Cleanin' up...your mess again..."   
  
Muzaka would be able to take care of the rest as Frankenstein's vision whited out.   
  


* * *

  
Frankenstein sucked in a breath when he awoke. He was nauseous and sweating but... He was alive.   
  
Somehow.   
  
He looked blearily at the room he was in. A window over his bed was letting in sunlight, lighting up the wooden walls. "Thisss s'not my lab..." He grimaced. His voice was rough and scratchy, his mouth dry.   
  
Everything about him ached and all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep more. But he should eat and drink something before that.   
  
"Course not." Frankenstein blinked and then looked over, seeing Muzaka sitting beside his bed, leaning an elbow on the windowsill, his chin resting in his palm. "I needed ta keep an eye on you." A small smile twitched his lips. "An' you needed the fresh air."   
  
Frankenstein snorted, and then winced. Urgh. Even moving made his skin feel like something scratchy was being dragged against it.   
  
Frankenstein huffed, and even that was an effort. "Water would be appreciated."  
  
"Ah, yeah, hold on." Muzaka disappeared and Frankenstein closed his eyes, trying to save his energy. His abdomen throbbed though and he looked down. There was an almost neat pink scar there. It wasn't flat, cutting a small valley through his skin.   
  
But that was all there was. A scar through his skin, not going deeper. The skin around it was still hot to the touch and dry.   
  
Werewolf healing was ridiculous. How long had it been, and the wound was almost already gone? Had the full transformation boosted his healing enough to save him? He didn't seem to have the same mottled scars Maduke had, and had that been because he hadn't reacted as much to the silver since he was human?   
  
Muzaka returned quickly with a cup in hand.   
  
Pulling himself upright could have been worse, but Frankenstein managed, taking the cup.   
  
"You all right?" Muzaka asked as Frankenstein drank. "You've been recoverin' for a while already."   
  
Frankenstein leaned back, resting the cup on his stomach. The water seemed to be settling in his stomach, rather than wanting to come up again. "Recovering from the silver reaction is bad enough," he said, "but...I suspect it's not being helped by the drain of achieving the full transformation."   
  
Muzaka perked up, gaping at him. "You developed your claws?" He grinned. "We hafta test this out!"   
  
Frankenstein glared at him. "Not _now_." Damn fight-happy werewolf.   
  
Muzaka threw his head back and laughed. "Yeah, of course not. Once you've recovered completely."   
  
Because otherwise it wouldn't be a good fight if they weren't both at their best. Frankenstein still smiled tiredly as he sipped the water again.   
  
"How is Langrol doing?" He hadn't been able to check on her after the fight.   
  
"She's doing as well as she can be." Muzaka's gaze drifted out the window, his smile fading. "She doesn't want to interact with a lot of the warriors right now."   
  
"That's understandable." Maybe in time they would regain her trust again, but it would be hard to know.   
  
"Mmn."   
  
"And the ones that were involved with the tests?"  
  
"Dead," Muzaka said, his lip curling. "We've got most of 'em, and Dorant's searchin' for the ones we haven't found yet."  
  
Frankenstein smiled. Good. He exhaled, bracing himself as he tried to swing his legs over the bed.   
  
"Oi, where're you going?" Muzaka said, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him.   
  
"I've used up more than enough of your hospitality," Frankenstein said. "I should be-"  
  
Muzaka snorted, raising an eyebrow. "Goin' back to your lab?"  
  
"...Well." Right. It had been destroyed, hadn't it?   
  
Muzaka chuckled, letting him go and sitting back down. "Yeah, Dorant tore it up pretty good with his fight."   
  
And there was that as well. As strong as Dorant must be... There wouldn't be anything left, would there?   
  
"So anyway," Muzaka said, shaking his head, "stay here."   
  
Frankenstein stared at him. What?  
  
"Your lab's busted up so you can't go there right now - you can stay here instead." He smiled, teasing. "Sorry this place ain't underground though."  
  
Frankenstein sighed and then slowly leaned back onto the bed. He wasn't in the mood or health to rebuild right now. He'd done it so many times already, he was tired of it. "If it's no trouble for you."   
  
Muzaka patted him on the shoulder. "I can handle a bit of trouble, heh."   
  
A small smile curled Frankenstein's lips.   
  


* * *

  
"Come in," Frankenstein said as he pulled himself up into a seating position. He still felt nauseous but it was fading by the day. The fever had left as well, and his heart rate seemed normal, so the chance of him having developed sepsis was minimal.   
  
Werewolf healing really was ridiculous.   
  
Garda poked her head in and smiled when she saw him. In her hands was a plate of food.   
  
"Ah, thank you."   
  
He'd regained a lot of strength over time as well, so he could keep holding it without it tiring him.   
  
Dorant followed her in, closing the door. "I'm sorry," he said, ducking his head.   
  
"Mm?" Frankenstein said. "What for?"  
  
"I destroyed your home."   
  
Oh, that. Frankenstein shrugged, feeling the ache in his muscles. "It already was before your fight; I can rebuild it." He paused, thinking it over. "Well. Once Muzaka lets me leave." Muzaka was insisting he continue resting here.   
  
Dorant lifted his head as Garda grinned. "Oh?" she said. "Lord Muzaka told you something and you listened? Did your head get rattled during the fight as well?"  
  
He snorted. "Hardly. I can acknowledge the fact I need to rest." Though he _had_ taken a lot of knocks to the head during the fight. He could still agree with Muzaka though.   
  
"You'll need it," Garda said, nodding. "You'll be busier once you're more active again."   
  
He raised an eyebrow. What had happened?  
  
She smiled back. "Word has gotten out you beat Maduke - more warriors are curious about battling you."  
  
The joy of being popular and of gossip spreading. But it would mean more information. Though...   
  
"The victory wasn't mine alone," Frankenstein said, frowning. It had been Langol's as much as his.   
  
"A non-warrior and a human who only just got his claws worked together to take down a warrior from Muzaka's inner circle?" Garda looked at him incredulously. "Most would have thought that was impossible a year ago."   
  
...Hm, that would have been considered impossible for humans as well.   
  
Frankenstein exhaled, moving his food around his plate. He'd done many impossible things since arriving at, and even before, the werewolf territory.   
  
He wouldn't have managed if he hadn't gained the strength or support to do it.   
  
His work had been the cause for harming many people, but it was also the reason why he was able to stop it from continuing as well.   
  
Then...he should continue with his research. He still had much to learn and perfect.   
  
Frankenstein smiled at them. "Then I look forward to their fights."  
  


* * *

  
"Heh, was wonderin' when you were gonna start setting up here," Muzaka said, grinning at Frankenstein while he leaned against the doorframe.   
  
Frankenstein had been itching to test his blood as soon as he could sit upright for longer periods of time. He was still unsure about his decision to continue, but he knew his encryption worked, and...it was impossible to have a puzzle before him and not try to figure it out.   
  
"I'd needed to secure some supplies first; Garda and Dorant were most helpful in that regard," he said as he organised his vials.   
  
While he mourned the loss of his lab, it was nice making a fresh start again. And while he may have burned his previous results, he could remember what he'd last written. The windows would provide a problem of influencing his work, but maybe he could make some kind of box where he could store what he was currently testing...  
  
"Hnn," Muzaka said as he came in. "I thought you might want this back too."   
  
'Back'? He'd never lent or given Muzaka anyth...  
  
Frankenstein stared at the leather sheathed dagger in Muzaka's grasp, held in both hands, palms up.   
  
"You brought it back...?" Frankenstein murmured as he took it from Muzaka. He could feel the silver through the leather, warmer than it had ever been before.   
  
Hmm. That was another way to measure how strong he'd become.   
  
"Well, yeah," Muzaka said, shrugging. "I know how important is to ya."   
  
Did he? Frankenstein had only ever used it to check the reaction a werewolf's blood in Muzaka's presence.   
  
But he'd brought the blade wherever he went. Muzaka had noticed? "Thank you." It was one of the few things he had left of his previous life that was still in tact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more part because...I needed an epilogue to my epilogue. XDD


	19. Chapter 19

Frankenstein exhaled, rolling his shoulders after he hung his tunic over a branch. He hadn't sparred since his fight with Maduke weeks ago, but he did feel more like he'd used to. _Better_ than he used to.  
  
"You ready?" Muzaka said, grinning as he rested a hand on his hip.  
  
Frankenstein smiled back, transforming, his arms and cheeks tingling as fur spread over them. Energy coursed through him, ready to be used. It was strange feeling the extra pressure against his teeth as his incisors grew; he hadn't noticed that last time, but he'd been distracted with everything else.  
  
Muzaka's grin sharpened and he dashed forward, transforming fully in one step, adding an even bigger burst of speed.  
  
...He was going to be in trouble with this spar, but Frankenstein didn't care as he jumped out the way, grinning just as fiercely. He wanted to see what both of them could _do_.  
  


* * *

  
Frankenstein grunted when his back hit the tree, but before he could do anything, Muzaka was there, claws brushing his jaw, Muzaka's aura pinning him there.  
  
Frankenstein breathed a chuckle as he relaxed, letting go of his transformation. He hadn't expected a win, but the spar had gone far better than he thought.  
  
"You've gotten a lot better," Muzaka rumbled, leaning in so close their breaths intermingled as they panted.  
  
While Frankenstein concentrated on getting his breath back, Muzaka brushing a bead of sweat away with the side of a claw. It was a nice feeling of safety, to know even one twitch of Muzaka's fingers could tear out his throat, but also know that Muzaka had enough control to not do it.  
  
He could put his life in Muzaka's hands and know it was safe.  
  
"I'll need to figure out a way to get faster," Frankenstein mused as Muzaka let go of him. He'd managed to score a few hits, but none had been able to cut Muzaka's tendons. Muzaka knew about that tactic now and was protecting himself against them.  
  
"You'll get faster," Muzaka said, grinning at him. "At this rate, you'll be Lord in no time! If Dorant doesn't get there first, heh."  
  
Frankenstein blinked at him. "Why would I want to be Lord?" He'd never mentioned any desire to rule over the werewolves, only for them to stop attacking humans.  
  
Muzaka tilted his head, his brow furrowed. "We pretty much rooted out all the traitors weeks ago - that's why you came here, so why else would you stay?"  
  
...Hm, that _was_ a question, wasn't it?  
  


* * *

  
Frankenstein couldn't concentrate on his notes, the question continuing to circle his mind. Why _did_ he continue to stay? Muzaka was aware of what had been happening now, and almost all of the werewolves who wanted to rule humans had been found.  
  
He wasn't needed here anymore.  
  
He could have left weeks ago, even before he'd fully healed. Instead, he'd built his lab up in Muzaka's home and never left.  
  
He could have went back to the human world and continued his research there.  
  
And achieve what? He wasn't welcome at the Union and would be hunted once he reached the human lands again. He could roam, treating illnesses and injuries in villages as he passed. He could protect villages from outside threats, like vampires, but...  
  
He had done far more here to protect humans than when he was amongst them.  
  
He'd gained far more here, not just in terms of research but...companions as well. He enjoyed his time here and he wasn't sought out only to solve someone else's problems for them. The werewolves wanted to see him, and wanted him to improve.  
  
He enjoyed his time here. That was the crux of it, wasn't it?  
  
Hm. Not quite. There was something...  
  
Frankenstein lifted his head at the sound of Muzaka's front door opening.  
  
"Finished for the day?" Frankenstein said, smiling as he set his pen down. He wasn't going to manage to writing anything else down anyway.  
  
Muzaka grimaced, running a hand down his face. "The meetings went on for far too long. But it's done for now." He sighed, throwing himself down onto a chair. "Until tomorrow, urgh.  
  
"Anyway," Muzaka said, shaking his head, "what're you workin' on now?"  
  
"Thinking."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Muzaka was watching him intently, interested in what he was doing, like he always was.  
  
"I'm surprised you didn't seem to care that I was trying to take your title?" Though, Muzaka also supported Dorant doing the same.  
  
"Why would I? You're getting stronger and if you're in change, they'd be in good hands." Muzaka shrugged.  
  
"But strength doesn't automatically mean someone is a good leader," Frankenstein said, frowning.  
  
"Doesn't hafta mean physical strength, and you've proven that," Muzaka said, grinning as he leaned back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head. "Strength comes in different forms."  
  
It does, doesn't it. Hm.  
  
"Is that all you're thinkin' about?"  
  
Frankenstein looked at him wryly. "Was that too small a topic for you?"  
  
Muzaka chuckled, grinning back. "I know you - you don't just think about one thing at a time."  
  
True. Frankenstein hummed, turning his thoughts over in his head. "You never asked me to move out after I recovered, especially when I started taking over part of your home with my lab. Why?" And he was asking this while seated at his lab, hah...  
  
"I like your company," Muzaka said, his gaze drifting.  
  
It was that straightforward, huh.  
  
"Like me enough to consider me a sparring partner?" Frankenstein said lightly, smiling.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Frankenstein stared at him.  
  
Oh.  
  
He _really_ needed to start researching werewolf social cues. Frankenstein exhaled, picking his words with care. "You'd...never said anything?" Or had he just missed all the hints?  
  
Damn. What had Garda said about sparring partners? Frankenstein racked his brain for the information. Someone who helped to push you to improve in fights? ...Which Muzaka had admitted when they'd first started sparring together.  
  
Someone who you could spar daily, or not spar with and just spend time with.  
  
There had been days when Muzaka hadn't even sparred with him, merely talking with him or listening to him as he worked.  
  
And Frankenstein _knew_ Muzaka didn't like socialising too much after a day full of meeting other werewolves, and yet Muzaka still sought him out to spend time with him.  
  
...He was an idiot for missing all those signs and not putting together what it meant.  
  
Muzaka shrugged, looking out the window. "I'm the Lord; if I say something, people take it as an order, so I don't say what I want that often anymore."  
  
Frankenstein arched an eyebrow, amused. "You're not _my_ Lord however."  
  
Muzaka smiled softly back. "Yeah."  
  
Frankenstein exhaled. "I'm apparently very slow with understanding werewolf actions," he admitted, "so I'm going to need you to tell me things very plainly, even if your actions seem clear to you." He paused, musing. "I'll do the same." Since Muzaka wouldn't know about human cues either.  
  
Muzaka nodded. "All right."  
  
"Starting with what you want," Frankenstein said.  
  
And himself? He enjoyed Muzaka's company, both when they sparred and when they weren't. Muzaka had pushed him to improve and even just his presence was enough to lighten Frankenstein's mood.  
  
If he left for the human lands, it was doubtful he would ever see Muzaka again and...he didn't want that. Frankenstein had looked forward to the next time Muzaka appeared, even if it had involved being dragged away from his work.  
  
Muzaka stilled, staring at him. "...All right." He didn't say anything for a few seconds, opening his lips and then pursing them again.  
  
Hm, Muzaka really wasn't used to saying what he wanted.  
  
"I'd...like us to be sparring partners," Muzaka said, watching him.  
  
Frankenstein smiled. "And I as well." Hopefully that was the right response.  
  
Frankenstein didn't see Muzaka move. He was lifted up and enveloped in a tight hug, Muzaka rumbling deep in his chest.  
  
Frankenstein closed his eyes and returned his hug, feeling Muzaka's warmth.  
  
Yes, this was why he'd stayed.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
